Sonic The Lost World
by SilverSilence14
Summary: The terrors of Jurassic Park are long gone, burned away in the night. But when a second island is discovered, will Shadow Malcolm and his team be able to stop Jack Ludlow and InGen from pillaging the Lost World and bringing disaster to the mainland?
1. Prologue

**The Lost World Cast (Mix of Film and Book Characters)**

**Major Roles:**

Ian Malcolm – Shadow the Hedgehog

Sarah Harding-Rouge the Bat

Dr. Levine – Vector the Crocodile

Peter Ludlow (Bad Guy) - Jack Rabbit

Dr. Thorne /Nick Van Owen (Character Combination) – Manic the Hedgehog

Eddie Carr – Snively Robotnik

R.B "Arby" Benton- Anti Miles (Bear with me on that one, it might get confusing.)

Kelly Curtis -Ex Ranazz (OC)

**Minor Roles**

Roland Tembo- Rob O' Hedgehog

Ajay Sidhu- Charles the Hedgehog

Dr. Robert Burk – Rotor the Walrus

Lewis Dodgson- Metal Sonic

Dieter Stark – Nack the Weasel

* * *

**Welcome everyone to the next installment in the Sonic Jurassic Park Series: The Lost World**

**For those of you who haven't read Sonic Jurassic Park. Get out of here! You got to read the first one first lol. This is the second, so go back back back! And click on the other one if you haven't gone thought the first one yet! It's complete so you can read the whole thing in one sitting. Lol, and for those of you who have read the first one, you can stay, or read the first again. lol, hopefully it's good enough to read again and again.**

**Okay here we go!**

* * *

**Prologue **

The late twentieth century had witnessed a remarkable growth in scientific interest in the subject of extinction.

It was hardly a new subject- extinction had been first demonstrated that species became extinct back in 1789, not long after what the humans called 'American Revolution'. The theory was accepted until Darwin, put for his theory of evolution, were 'extinction' was hardly mentioned.

The thing about extinction, it was generally considered as unremarkable as a car running out of gas. Extinction was simply proof of failure to adapt. However, the fact that some species failed was hardly given a second thought. What was there to say about it? However, in the turn of the century, two developments began to focus the attention on extinction in a new way.

The first was the recognition that human beings were now declining, and anthros were now very numerous, and were altering the planet at a very rapid rate – eliminating traditional habitats, clearing new paths, same as humans polluted the air and water, and perhaps even changing the global climate. In the process, many animals became extinct or evolved into anthros. Some scientists cried out in alarm; other were quietly uneasy. How fragile was the planet's ecosystem? Was the human species engaged in behavior that would eventually lead to their extinction and the flourishing of another?

No one was sure. Since nobody had bothered to study extinction in an organized way, there was little information about the rates of extinction in other geological eras. So scientists began looking closely at the extinction of the past, hoping to find answers for the present.

That is when they found the dinosaurs.

The second development concerned new knowledge about the death of the dinosaurs. It had long been known that all dinosaur species had become extinct in a relatively short time at the end of the Cretaceous era, approximately sixty-five million years ago. Exactly how quickly those extinctions occurred is what scientist wanted to know.

People studied, theories came, theories went, and the studies continued. Then finally one theory _did _arrive that could have been the possible answer. In the rocks of the earth, iridium was discovered in high concentrations measuring around the time of the Cretaceous era. Iridium was rare on earth, but abundant in meteors. From this evidence, scientists figured that a meteor, many miles in diameter, had collided with the earth at that time. They theorized that the resulting dust and debris had darkened the skies, inhibited photosynthesis, killed plants and animals, and ended the reign of the dinosaurs.

The dramatic theory captured the media and the public's imagination. It began a controversy for which continued for many years. Where was the crater? There had been five major periods of extinction in the past – had meteors caused them all? Was there a twenty-six-million-year cycle catastrophe? Was the planet even now awaiting another devastating impact?

For decades to come, these questions remained unanswered. The debate raged on- until in one late August, when, at a weekly seminar of the Santa Fe institute and iconoclastic mathematician named Shadow Malcolm announced that none of these questions mattered, and that the debate over a meteoric impact was "a frivolous and irrelevant speculation."

* * *

"Consider the numbers," Malcolm explained, leaning on the podium stand, staring forward at his audience. "On our planet there are currently fifty million _known _species of plants and animals. We think that is a remarkable diversity, yet it is nothing compared to what has existed before. We estimate that there have been fifty _billion _species on this planet since life began. That means that for every thousand species that ever existed on the planet, only one remains today. Thus 99.9 percent of all species that ever lived are extinct. Moreover, mass killing account for only five percent of that total. The overwhelming majority of species died one at a time."

The truth, Malcolm said, was that life on earth was marked by a continuous, steady rate of extinction. By and large, the average lifespan of a species was four million years. For mammals, it was million years. Then the species vanished. So the real pattern was one of the species rising, flourishing, and dying out in a few million years. On average, one species a day had become extinct throughout the history of life on the earth.

"But why?" he asked. "What leads to the rise and decline of earth's species in a four-million-year life cycle?"

"It suggests to us that behavior of complex animals can change very rapidly, and not always for the better. It suggests that behavior can cease to be responsive to the environment, and lead to decline and death. It suggests that animals may stop adapting. Is this what happened to the dinosaurs? Is this true cause of their disappearance? We may never know. But it is no accident that human beings and anthros are so interested in dinosaur extinction. The decline of the dinosaurs allowed mammals – including us – to flourish. And that leads us to wonder whether the disappearance of the dinosaurs is going to be repeated, sooner or later, by us as well. Whether at the deepest level the fault lies not in blind fate – in some fiery meteor from the skies - but from our own behavior. At the moment, we have no answer."

And then he smiled.

"But I have a few suggestions," he said.

* * *

**And we are back ladies and gentlemen! I was not going to keep you waitin long. =D ****And look who's back as well :)**

**Shadow Malcolm!**

**This chapter just makes you want to fall over and croak doesn't it? It sure made me. I was a dinosaur fanatic as a kid, and I knew , and still know, all of the theories. But I still hate going scientific. This story is going to take a LOT of research, because SHADOW over there isn't making my job any easier! (him and his bloody chaos theories)**

**It will get better I promise, soon it will be less science, and more chomping dying and screaming lol. (Unless you like science, then whoops)Just hang with me becuase we are going to so do this people!**

**Wish me luck and here we go!**

**Welcome to the next installment!**

**THE LOST WORLD**


	2. Life at the Edge of Chaos

Chapter 2

**Life at the Edge of Chaos**

The Santa Fe Institute is famous for being housed in a series of buildings on Canyon Road which had formerly been a convent, and the Institute's seminars were held in a room which had served as a chapel. Now, standing at the podium, with a shaft of sunlight shining down on him, Shadow Malcolm paused before continuing his lecture.

Shadow was thirty-six years old, and a regular visitor at the Institute. He had been one of the early pioneers in the chaos theory, but his promising career had been disrupted by a severe – but rather mysterious – injury during a trip to Costa Rica; Malcolm had, in fact, been reported _dead, _in several newscasts. "I was sorry to cut short the celebrations and the parties in the mathematics departments around the country," he later stated, "but it turned out I was only _slightly _dead. The surgeons have done wonders, as they will be the first to tell you. So now I am back – in my next iteration, you might say."

Dressed entirely in black, leaning on the podium, Shadow gave the audience and impression of severity. He was known within the Institute for his unconventional analysis, and his tendency to pessimism. His talk that was entitled 'Life at the Edge of Chaos' was typical of his thinking. As Malcolm presented his analysis of chaos theory as it applied to evolution.

"Of the self – organizing behaviors," Shadow Malcolm said, "two are of particular interest to the study of evolution. One is adaptation. We see it everywhere. Brain cells adapt to signal traffic, the immune system adapts to infection, animals adapt to their food supply."

He shifted his weight from his weaker left to his right leg,. "But even more important," he said, "is the way complex systems seem to strike a balance between the need for order, and the imperative to change. Complex systems tend to locate themselves at a place we call 'the edge of chaos' we imagine the edge of chaos as a place where there is enough innovation to keep a living system vibrant, and enough stability to keep it from collapsing. Finding the balance point must be a delicate matter – if a living system drifts too close, it risks falling over the incoherence and dissolution; but if the system moves too far from the edge, it becomes rigid, frozen, and totalitarian. Both conditions lead to extinction. Too much change is as destructive as too little. Only at the edge of chaos can complex systems flourish."

He paused, "And, by implication, extinction is the inevitable result of one or the other strategy – too much change, or too little."

In the audience, heads were nodding. This was familiar thinking to most of the researchers present. Indeed, the concept of the edge of chaos was very nearly dogma at the Santa Fe Institute.

"Unfortunately," Malcolm continued, "the gap between this theoretical construct and the fact of extinction is vast. We have no way to know if our thinking is correct. The fossil record can tell us that an animal became extinct at a certain time, but not why. And I wonder how it is to be solved it- Yes? What is it?"

At the back of the room, a hand had gone up, waving impatiently. Shadow frowned, visibly annoyed. The tradition at the Institute was that questions were held until the presentation ended; it was poor form to interrupt a speaker. "You had a question?" Malcolm asked.

From the back of the room, a middle-aged male in his early thirties stood. "Actually," the man said, "an observation."

* * *

The speaker was bright green, and large – a crocodile. He was wearing dark khaki pants and top, black and yellow boots, white gloves with black and white armbands. He also seemed to be wearing what looked like black and yellow headphones, which was rather an odd piece of attire to be wearing at such a prestigious place. The headphones sat comfortably around the crocodile's neck.

The crocodile was precise in his movements and manner. Malcolm recognized him as a paleontologist from Berkeley, named Vector Levine, who was spending the summer at the Institute. Shadow had never spoken to him, but he knew his reputation: Levine was generally agreed to be the best paleobiologist of his generation. He was famous for his work in Downunda. However, most people at the Institute disliked him, finding him pompous and arrogant. Shadow was quickly on his way to joining those group of people.

"I agree," Levine, continued, "That the fossil record is not helpful in addressing extinction. Particularly if your thesis is that behavior is the cause of extinction – because bones do not tell us much about behavior. However, I disagree that your behavioral thesis is un-testable. In fact, it implies an outcome. Although perhaps, you haven't thought of it."

The room was deathly silent. At the podium, Malcolm blinked, and then frowned. The eminent mathematician was not accustomed to being told he had not thought through his ideas. "My I ask your point," he responded coolly.

Levine appeared indifferent to the tension in the room. "Just this," he said. "During the Cretaceous, _Dinosauria _were widely distributed across the planet. We have found their remains on every continent, and in every climate zone – including the Antarctic. Now, if their extinction was really the result of their behavior, and not the consequence of a catastrophe, or a disease, or a change in plant life, or any of the other broad scale explanations that have been proposed. Then it seems to me, highly unlikely that they all changed their behavior at the same time, everywhere, And that in turn means that there may well be some remnants of these animals still alive on the earth. Why couldn't you look for them?"

"You could," Malcolm said coldly, "if that amused you. And if you had no more compelling use for your time."

"No, no," Levine said earnestly. "I'm quite serious. What if the dinosaurs did not become extinct? What if they still exist? Somewhere in an isolated spot on the planet."

"You're talking about, a Lost World," Shadow said slowly. Heads in the room nodded knowingly. Scientists at the Institute had developed a shorthand for referring to common evolutionary scenarios. They spoke of the Field of Bullets, the Game of Life, the Lost World, and the Black Noise. These were well-defined ways of thinking about evolution. But they were all-

"No," Levine said stubbornly, "I am speaking literally."

"Then you're badly deluded," Malcolm said, with a dismissive wave of his hand. He turned away from the audience, and walked to the blackboard. "Now if we consider the implications of the edge of life? Most contemporary definitions of life would include the presence of DNA, but there are two examples, which suggest to us that this definition is too narrow. If you consider viruses and so – called prions, it is clear that life may in fact exist without DNA…."

At the back of the room, Levine stared for a moment. Then, reluctantly, he sat down, and began to make notes.

* * *

The lecture ended, Shadow walked across the open courtyard of the Institute, it was shortly after noon. Walking beside him was Rouge Harding, a young field biologist visiting from Africa. Malcolm had known her for several years, since he had been asked to serve as an outside reader for her doctoral thesis at Berkeley.

Crossing the courtyard in the hot summer sun, the made an unlikely pair: Malcolm dark, and all dressed in black. Harding, her fur stark white against Malcolm's dark fur, looking energetic in shorts and a tee shirt, her short white hair pushed up on her forehead with sunglasses. Her field of study was African predators, lions and hyenas. She was scheduled to return to Nairobi the next day.

The story was that the two had been close since Malcolm's surgery. Harding had been on a leave from her work for a year in Austin, and had helped nurse Malcolm back to health, after his many operations. For a while, it seemed as if a romance had blossomed, and that Malcolm, a confirmed bachelor, would settle down. But then Harding had gone back to Africa, and Malcolm had gone to Santa Fe. Whatever their former relationship had been, they were now just friends.

They discussed the questions that had come at the end of his lecture. From Malcolm's point of view, there had been only the predictable objections: the mass extinctions _were _important; that humans owed their existence to the Cretaceous periods, which had wiped out the dinosaurs and allowed mammals to take over. As one questioner had pompously phrased it, "The Cretaceous allowed our own sentient awareness to arise on the planet."

Malcolm's reply was immediate: "What makes you think human beings are sentient and aware? And even anthros for that matter? There is no evidence for it. Human beings never think for themselves, they find it too uncomfortable. For the most part, members of our species simply repeat what they are told – and become upset if they are exposed to any different view. I see no reason to assume we have any awareness at all. Both species are stubborn, self – destructive conformists. Any other view of species is just a delusion. Next question."

Now walking across the courtyard, Rouge Harding laughed, "They didn't care much for that."

"I admit, I can be rather discouraging," Shadow sighed, "But it can't be helped." He shook his head, "These are some of the best scientists in the country, and still…no interesting ideas. By the way, what's the story on that guy who interrupted me?"

"Vector Levine?" she chuckled. "Irritating bastard, isn't he? He has a world-wide reputation for being an pain in the ass."

Shadow grunted, "I'd say."

"He's wealthy, is the problem," Rouge said. "You know about the Becky dolls?"

"No." he said, giving her a glance.

"Well, every little girl in the country does. There's a series: Becky and Sally and Frances and several more. They're Americana dolls. Vector is the heir of the company, he's a smartass rich kid. Impetuous, does whatever he wants.

Shadow nodded, "You have time for lunch?"

"Sure, I would be-"

"Dr. Malcolm! Wait up! Excuse me! Dr. Malcolm!"

Shadow glanced back. Hurrying across the courtyard toward them was the large figure of Vector Levine.

"Ah, shit," Shadow hissed.

"Dr. Malcolm," Levine said, coming up. "I was surprised that you didn't take my proposal more seriously."

"How could I?" Shadow said, "It's absurd."

"Yes, but-"

"Ms. Harding and I were just going to lunch," Malcolm said, gesturing to Rouge.

Levine turned to her, "Ms. Harding, as in Rouge Harding? Daughter of Silver Harding?"

Rouge nodded. "Yes."

He shook her hand, "Pleasure to meet you." He turned back to Malcolm, "Yes, but I think you should reconsider," Levine said, pressing on. "Because I believe my argument is valid – it is entirely possible, even likely, that dinosaurs still exist. You must know there are persistent rumors about animals in Costa Rica, where I believe you have spent time."

Malcolm's eyes narrowed, "Yes, and in the case of Costa Rica I can tell you-"

"Also in the Congo," Levine said, continuing. "For many years there have been reports by pygmies of a large Sauropod, perhaps even an apatosaur, in the dense forests. And also in the high jungles of Irian Jaya, there is supposedly an animal the side of a rhino, which perhaps is a remnant ceratopsian-"

"Fantasy," Malcolm said. "Pure fantasy. Nothing has ever been seen. No photographs. No hard evidence."

"Perhaps not," Levine said. "But the absence of proof is not proof of absence. I believe there may well be a locus of these animals, survivals from a past time."

Malcolm shrugged. "Anything is possible," he said.

"But the point of fact, survival _is _possible," Levine insisted "I keep getting calls about new animals in Costa Rica. Remnants, fragments."

Malcolm paused. "Recently?"

"Not for awhile."

"Ummm," Malcolm said, "I thought so."

"That last call was nine months ago," Levine said. "I was in Siberia looking at that frozen baby mammoth, and I couldn't get back in time. But I'm told it was some kind of very large, atypical lizard, found dead in the jungle of Costa Rica."

"And? What happened to it?"

"The remains were burned."

"So nothing is left?"

"That's right."

"No photographs? No proof?"

"Apparently not."

"So it's just a story," Malcolm said.

"Perhaps. But I believe it is worth mounting an expedition, to find out about these reported survivals."

Malcolm stared at him. "An expedition? To find a hypothetical Lost World? Who is going to pay for it?"

"I am," Levine said. "I have already begun the preliminary planning."

"But that could cost-"

"I don't care what it costs," Levine said. "That fact is, survival is possible, it has occurred in a variety of species from other genera, and it may be that there are survivals from the Cretaceous as well."

"Fantasy," Malcolm said again, shaking his head.

Levine paused, and stared at Malcolm. "Dr. Malcolm," he said, "I'm must say I'm very surprised at your attitude. You've just present a thesis and I am offering you a chance to prove it. I would have thought you'd jump at the opportunity."

"My jumping days are over," Malcolm said.

"But instead of taking me up on this, you-"

"I'm not interested in dinosaurs," Malcolm said.

"But everyone is interested in dinosaurs."

"Not me." He turned, and started to walk off.

"By the way," Levine said. "What were you doing in Costa Rica? I heard you were there for almost a year."

"I was lying a hospital bed. They couldn't even move me out of intensive care for six months. I couldn't even get on a plane."

"Yes," Levine said, "I know you got hurt. But what were you doing there in the first place? Weren't you looking for dinosaurs?"

Malcolm stopped walking, he looked back, squinting at him in the bright son, leaning on his right leg. "No," he said. "I wasn't."

* * *

**...**

**Okay, blah, sorry this took so long. As some of you know, my internet was going crazy, then fanfiction deleted the orginal.**

***Sigh***

**But I'm back, this chapter is a short as...well. It is short. And it's rather dull, just some science, back stories and chitter chatter. But it is a chapter isn't it? It's good to be back though, and I'll post the next chapter as soon as I can.**

**Luv you all!**


	3. Rumors and Lies

Chapter 3

**Driving Me Crazy**

They were all three sitting at a small painted table in the corner of the café, not far from a lake. At first glance they looked like any other group at the café. On closer inspection, it became clear how tense the air was.

Rouge drank her beer from the bottle, draining it quickly as she watched the two men in front of her. Vector seemed to look please to be with them, as if he had won some sort of victory to be sitting at the table. Shadow looked weary- well more weary than usual that is – like a parent who has spent too much time with a hyperactive child.

Come to think of it. Hyperactive child was pretty close in terms of describing Vector Levine.

"You want to know what I've hear?" Levine said. "I've heard that a couple of year's back, a company named InGen genetically engineered some dinosaurs and put them on an island in Costa Rica. However, something went wrong, a lot of people were killed, and the dinosaurs were destroyed. Now nobody will talk about it, because of some legal angle. The Costa Rican government does not want to hurt tourism. Therefore, nobody will talk. That is what I've heard."

Shadow stared at him, hard. "And you believe that?"

"Not at first, I didn't," Levine admitted, "But the thing is, I keep hearing it. The rumors keep floating around. Supposedly you, Sonic Grant, Shelly Sattler, and a few other people were there."

"Well did you ask Grant about it?"

"I asked him, last year, at a conference in Apotos. He said it was absurd. He said it was impossible to genetically engineer dinosaurs, because there was no DNA samples."

Shadow nodded slowly.

"Is that what you say?" Levine asked, drinking his beer. "I mean, you know Grant, don't you?"

"No. I never met him."

Levine was watching the ebony hedgehog closely. "So it's not true then?"

Shadow sighed. "Yes, it's not true. Grant is correct, as far as I have heard there is no dinosaur DNA to be found. Genetic dinosaurs are just one of many absurd rumors floating around."

"You're saying InGen's dinosaurs are a myth."

"Of course they are. They have to be. Do you think it's possible to genetically engineer a dinosaur?"

"The experts all tell me it's not."

"And they are right," Shadow said. He glanced at Rouge, as if for confirmation. She said nothing, just drank her beer.

* * *

The truth was, Rouge knew something more about the dinosaur rumors. She had noticed the suspicions, like everyone. However, her dad had been in Costa Rica at the time, coincidentally working for InGen, so she had given him a call. Where he ultimately denied the rumors.

Rouge had flown down after hearing of Malcolm's condition. He was a close friend why wouldn't she? Once after surgery, Malcolm had been delirious, mumbling nonsense from pain medication. And he had been seemingly fearful, twisting in the bed, repeating the names of several kinds of –well of dinosaurs. Rouge had asked the nurse about it; she said he was like that after every operation. The hospital staff assumed it was a drug-induced fantasy – yet it seemed to Harding that Malcolm was reliving some terrifying actual experience. The feeling was heightened by the shortened, familiar way Malcolm referred to the dinosaurs. He called them "raptors" and "compys" and "trikes." He seemed especially fearful of the raptors. The "rex" as he would call it, would come in a close second.

Later, when he was back home, she had asked him about his delirium. He had just shrugged it off, giving her a pat on the shoulder, making a bad joke – "At least I didn't mention other woman, did I?" Then he made some comment about having been a dinosaur nut as a kid, and how illness made you regress. His whole attitude was elaborately indifferent, as if it was all unimportant; she had the distinct feeling he was being evasive. However, she wasn't inclined to push it; those were the days when she was in love with him, her attitude indulgent.

Now he was looking at her in a questioning way, as if to ask if she was going to contradict him. Rouge just raised an eyebrow, and stared back. He must have his reasons. She could wait him out.

Deep down inside, she prayed however, the wait would not want to be long. Because, she knew, she knew Shadow held the truth in there. And she just wanted to know, but a little bit of her was hoping. Just a small fraction of her prayed, that those dinosaurs rumors could possibly be true. But the truth was at the moment locked tight, so she would wait.

As long as it takes.

* * *

Levine leaned forward across the table and said, "So the InGen story is entirely untrue?"

Shadow stared at him with steely red eyes, "Entirely untrue," he said sternly, "Entirely untrue."

Shadow had been denying the speculation for three years. By now, he was getting good at it; his weariness was no longer affected but genuine. In the aftermath, everyone involved had moved quickly to quash the story. Agreements were made to never speak to one another about the "incident". Everyone was told to head their separate ways, with all relations to InGen severed. InGen wanted to limit its liability. The Costa Rican government wanted to preserve its reputation. And the individual scientists had been bound by nondisclosure agreements, abetted later by generous grants to continue their silence. In Malcolm's case, two years of medical bills had been paid.

As timed passed, interest in the story waned. InGen was long since bankrupt; the principle investors in Europe and Asia had taken their losses. Although the company's physical assets, the buildings and the lad equipment would be sold. The core technology, that had been developed would, they decided, never be sold. In short, the InGen chapter was closed.

There was nothing more to say.

* * *

"So there's no truth to it," Levine said, biting into his slice of apple pie. "To tell you the truth, Dr. Malcolm, that makes me feel better."

"Why?" Shadow asked cautiously.

"Because that means the remnants that keep turning up in Costa Rica must be real. Real dinosaurs. I've got a friend from Yale down there, a field biologist, and he says he's seen them. I believe him."

Shadow shrugged. "I doubt," he said, "that any more animals will turn up in Costa Rica."

"It's true there haven't been any for almost a year now. But if more show up, I'm going down there. And in the interim, I am going to outfit and expedition. I've been giving a lot of thought how it should be done. I think special vehicles should be involved don't you? I'll assemble a team, perhaps including Dr. Harding. Would you be interested Dr. Harding? I….."

Shadow shook his head almost immediately after hearing Harding.

"You think I'm wasting my time," Levine said.

"I do, yes."

"But suppose- just hear me out – that animals start to show up again."

"Never going to happen."

"But suppose they did?" Levine said. "Would you be interested in helping me? To plan an expedition?"

Shadow sighed finishing his meal. Christ was there no getting rid of the man? He pushed his plate aside. He stared at Levine. "Yes."

Levine opened his mouth, but Shadow held up a hand, "However, you may only keep me in touch, until, if ever, these animals did show up again. Then I might be interested in helping you."

"Great!" Levine his face lighting up, "That's all I wanted to know."

* * *

Outside, in the bright sunlight. Shadow walked with Rouge towards Shadow's old- but well kept- black Hudson. Levine climbed into a bright-red Ferrari, waved happily, and roared off.

"You think it will ever happen?" Rouge Harding asked. "That these, ah, animals will start to show up again?"

"No," Shadow said, "I am quite sure they never will."

"You sound hopeful," she noted,

He shook his head, and got awkwardly in the car, his leg was sore and aching, and he grimaced in pain as he swung it under the steering wheel. Rouge gave him a sad look before climbing in beside him. He glanced at her, and turned the key in the ignition. They drove back to the Institute in silence.

The following day, she went back to Africa. During the next eighteen months, she had a rough sense of Levine's progress, since from time to time he called her about field protocols, or vehicle tires, or the best anesthetic to use on animals in the wild. Sometimes she got a call from an assistant.

From Malcolm she heard nothing at all, although he sent her a card on her birthday. It arrived a month late. He had scrawled at the bottom, "Have a happy birthday. Be glad you're nowhere near him. He's driving me crazy."

* * *

2. A.M in an old diner in the darkest reaches of Santa Fe, Metal Dodgson sipped his coffee, contemplating how he would kill the pesky fly currently bumping the light above him.

Bzzz, Tap.

Fly swatter.

Bzzz, Tap.

Bug Spray

Bzzz, Tap.

Rolled up newspaper.

Ding, a ling.

A restaurant bell. –Wait that wasn't right. Metal looked up, as a tall grey, lanky rabbit with an eye patch on his left eye, stepped into the diner.

Jack Ludlow.

Since Metal was fired from Biosyn five years ago, after his contact failed to deliver the embryos, it was then that Ludlow had come to him. Ludlow had been paying Metal five hundred a day, to follow the people he was sure were present for the Costa Rica incident.

Boring as hell, the job was. All of the scientists had jobs duller than watching grass grown. Like the paleobotanist Sattler whose specialty was prehistoric pollen grains. Metal had sat through one of her lectures as Berkeley, and had barely been able to stay awake. Slide after slide of little pale shapes that looked like cotton balls, while she nattered on about polysaccharide bonding angles and crap like that. Chaos it was boring.

Ludlow sat down in the seat across from him. Raising a hand to order coffee from the waitress. The rabbit insisted on always having his meetings in the middle of the night. And always at the same damn diner. The coffee was horrible, but being paid five hundred a day made Metal learn not to complain.

Ludlow glared at him, "I haven't got all night," he said. "Let's get started.

"Right," Metal said. He opened a large envelope, pulling out sheets and photos, handing them over as he talked.

"Sonic Grant: paleontologist, one of the leading experts in the field. He famous for his work in Montana State. At the moment, he's on leave of absence and is now in Paris, lecturing on the latest dinosaur finds. Apparently he has some new ideas about tyrannosaurs being scavengers, and-"

"Next," Ludlow said.

"Shelly Sattler," Metal said, pushing across a photo. "Botanist, used to be involved with Grant. Was going to be married but, boyfriend was cheating on her so….Spends half of her time lecturing at the university in Berkeley. Spends the res of her time at home, because-"

"Go on, go on."

"Mighty Gennaro, former lawyer for InGen, now a boxing and weights coach in South Dakota. Big Hammond, is still running InGen company….Barely. Charmy Wu, is now currently running a ice cream shop in Nevada, and married." Metal explained, "Ivo Nedry is…..deceased. Then there are the kids-"

"Anybody contact them? Anybody from InGen?"

"No, no contact. The boy, Miles, or Tails as he goes by. Its starting collage, training in system programming and computer mechanics. The girl Cream is starting prep school. Hammond filed for protection after the incident."

Ludlow sighed, rubbing his eye, "Anything else."

"That's it."

"Nothing? Nothing at all? No Site B?"

"Site B," Metal inquired.

"Yes, Site B." Ludlow said, "My uncle knows about it, I'm sure. But he won't tell me anything."

"What is it?"

"If you hear anything about it," Ludlow said, "Tell me. What about Malcolm. What about Levine? Are they still friends?

Metal scoffed as he checked his notes, " I doubt friends are the proper term. They spent some time together about a year ago. But Malcolm hasn't been to Santa Fe recently. He is currently in Berkeley. He seems to have lost contact with Levine."

Ludlow sighed, "Keep track of Malcolm, see if he knows anymore about Levine." He leaned back in the booth seat. Running his finger gently across the coffee cup.

"I'll find out what they're up to sooner or later"

* * *

Mike Bowman felt like a hero when they finally reached the beach: a two-mile crescent of white sand utterly deserted. His yacht bobbed up and down in the water a few meters of shore. Attendants were setting up a small table, on the beach, preparing it for lunch. Everything here was just perfect.

Bowman, a thirty-six-year-old real estate developer from Dallas, had come to Costa Rica with his wife and daughter for a two-week holiday. The trip had actually been his wife's idea; for weeks, Ella had filled his ear about the wonderful national parks of Costa Rica, and how good it would be for their daughter, Tina to see them. Then, when they had arrived, it turned out Ella had an appointment to see a plastic surgeon in San José. That was the first Mike had heard about the excellent and inexpensive plastic surgery available in Costa Rica, and all the private clinics in San José.

Naturally they had a huge fight. Mike felt like Ella had lied to him, and she had. And he put his foot down on this plastic surgery business. Anyway, it was ridiculous, Ella was only thirty, and she was a beautiful woman. Hell, she had been Homecoming Queen her senior year, and that was not even ten years earlier. But Ella tended to be insecure, and worried. And it seemed in recent years she had mostly worried about losing her looks.

That, and everything else.

Ella patted her stomach after changing into her swimsuit, saying, "Honestly, I don't know _how, _I'm going to get this weight off."

"You look great, hon." Actually, he felt that she was too thin, but as a husband, he had learned not to mention things like that.

Tina was already bounding down the beach. She was only 11, plenty of energy.

"Don't forget your sunscreen!" Ella called.

"Later," Tina shouted over her shoulder. "I'm going to see if there's a sloth."

Ella Bowman looked around at the beach, and the trees. "You think she's all right?"

"Honey, this is a deserted island." Mike said.

"What about snakes?"

"Oh, for God's sake," Mike sighed. "There are no snakes on a beach."

"Well, there might be…."

"Honey," he said firmly. "Snakes are cold-blooded. They're reptiles. They can't control their body temperature. It's ninety degrees on that sand. If a snake came out, it'd be cooked. Believe me. There's no snakes on the beach." He watched his daughter scamper away, and smiled. "Let her go. Let her have a good time."

* * *

Tina ran till she was exhausted, and then threw herself down onto the sand beneath the shade of the palm trees. In this part of the beach, the palm trees overhung a gnarled tangle of mangrove roots, which blocked any attempt to penetrate inland. Tina sat in the sand, looking around.

In the sand, some of the three-toed bird tracks were small, and so faint they could hardly be seen. Other tracks were oddly large, and cut deeper in the sand. Tina stared at them idly when she heard a chirping noise, followed by a rustling of the mangrove thicket behind her.

Slowly standing and turning around, she gave a small gasp of surprise as the oddest looking lizard jumped out of the bushes. The lizard stood up on its hind legs, balancing on its thick tail, and stared at her. It was almost a foot tall, dark green with brown stripes along its back.

Tina thought it was cute .Sort of like a big salamander. She raised her hand and wiggled her fingers at it.

The lizard didn't seemed frightened. It came toward her, walking upright on its hind legs, hardly bigger than a chicken. And like a chicken it bobbed its head as it walked. Tina thought it would make a wonderful pet.

She suspected it wanted food. The lizard seemed rather tame and just stared at her. Slowly, Tina extended her hand, palm open, to show she didn't have any food.

The lizard paused, cocked his head, and chirped.

"Sorry," Tina said, "I don't have anything."

And then, without warning, the lizard jumped up onto her outstretched hand. Tina could feel its little toes pinching the skin of her palm, and she felt the surprising weight of the animal's body pressing her arm down. She giggled as it chirped once more.

And then the lizard scrambled up her arm, toward her face.

* * *

"I just wish I could see her," Ella said, squinting in the sunlight, "That's all. Just see her."

"I'm sure she is fine," Mike said, taking a bite off his lunch, it was delicious. Not like Ella would eat any of it.

"You don't think she'd leave the beach?" Ella said.

"No, hon, I don't."

"I feel so isolated here," Ella said.

"I though that's what you wanted." Mike said.

"I did."

"Well then, what's the problem?"

"I just wish I could see her, is all." Ella sighed.

Then, from down the beach, carried by the wind, they heard their daughter's voice. She was screaming.

* * *

**It's up it's up it's finally up!**

**WOOOOOHHOOO!**

**I swore to myself I'd get this chapter up tonight or else and by golly I did!**

***Victory dance* I finally got the bloody chapter up! And it took forver! I am so sorry. Summer has been as busy as can be, from birthday's to weddings to being sick. So it's up. You can read it now! Yay! I hope it's not too ...lame. So I'll see you...hopefully sooner than this last time. For the next chapter. I'm gonna skip out on My Blue Sky My Sunset until i get a few more chapters of this up.**

**Thanks for you amazing patience skills! You are all amazing!**


	4. Aberrant Forms

Chapter 4

**Aberrant Forms**

In the fading afternoon light, the helicopter skimmed low along the coast, following the line where the dense jungle met the beach. The last of the fishing villages had flashed beneath them ten minutes ago. Now there was only vast dark Costa Rican jungle, mangrove swamps, and mile after mile of deserted sand. Sitting beside the pilot, Marty Guitierrez stared out the window as the coastline swept past. There were not even any roads out in this area, at least none that he could see.

Guitierrez was a quiet, bearded human American of thirty-six, a field biologist who had lived for the last eight years in Costa Rica. He had originally come to study the vast species of birds in the rain forest, but stayed on as a consultant to the Reserva Biológica de Carara, the national park in the north. He clicked the radio mike and said to the pilot, "How much farther?"

"Five minutes at most Señor."

He nodded and turned to his companion. "We won't be long now." But the tall crocodile folded up in the back seat did not answer, or even acknowledge that he had been spoken to. He merely sat, with his hand on his chin, and stared frowning out the window.

Vector Levine wore sun-faded cargo shorts, and Downunda hat atop his head, with his trademark headphones poking out underneath. A battered pair of binoculars hung around his neck. But despite his rugged appearance, Levine conveyed an air of scholarly absorption. Behind his wire-frame spectacles, his features were sharp, his expression intense and critical as he looked out the window.

"What is this place?"

"It's called Rojas."

"So we're far south?"

"Yes. Only about fifty miles from the border with Panama."

Vector stared at the jungle, "I don't see any roads," he said. "How was this thing found?"

"Couple of campers," Gutierrez explained. "They came in by boat, landed on the beach."

"When was that?"

"Yesterday. They took one look at the thing, and ran like hell."

Vector nodded. With his arms folded up, his hands tucked under his chin, he looked like a praying mantis crossed over with and crocodile. That had been his nickname in graduate school: Mantis, in part because of his appearance – and in part because of his tendency to bite off the head of anyone who disagreed with him.

Figuratively speaking of course.

"We're here," Guitierrez said, pointing out the window as the helicopter banked, circling a beach.

The beach was a clean, curving white crescent, entirely deserted in the afternoon light. To the south, they saw a single dark mass in the sand. From the air, it looked like a rock, or perhaps a large clump of seaweed. The shape was amorphous, about five feet across. There were lots of footprints around it.

"Who's been here?" Vector said, with a sigh.

"Public Health Service people came out earlier today."

"Did they do anything?" he said. "They touch it, disturb it in any way?"

"I can't say." Guitierrez said.

"The Public Health Service," Vector repeated, shaking his head. "What do they know? You should have never let them near it, Marty."

"Hey," Guitierrez said. "I don't run this country. I did the best I could. They wanted to destroy it before you even got here. At least I managed to keep it intact until you arrived. Although I don't know how long they'll wait."

"Then we better get started," Levine said. He pressed the button on his mike. "Why are we still circling? We are losing light. Get down on the beach now. I want to see this thing first hand."

* * *

Vector Levine ran across the sand toward the dark shape, his binoculars bouncing against his chest. Even from a distance he could smell the unpleasant stench of decay. And already he was logging his preliminary impressions. The carcass lay half-buried in the sand, surround by a thick cloud of flies. The skin was bloated with gas, which made identification difficult.

He paused a few yards away from the creature, and took out his camera. Immediately, the pilot of the helicopter came up alongside him, pushing his hand down. "No _permitado."_

"What?"

"I am sorry Señor. No pictures allowed."

"Why the hell not?" Vector snapped. He turned to Guitierrez, who was trotting down the beach toward them. "Marty, why no pictures? This could be an important-"

"No pictures," the pilot said again, and he pulled the camera out of Vector's hand, who didn't let it go without a fight.

"Marty, this is crazy."

"Just go ahead and make your examination. I'll see what I can do." Guitierrez said, and then he began speaking in Spanish to the pilot, who answered sharply and angrily, waving his hands.

Vector watched a moment, then turned away. The hell with this, he thought. They could argue forever. He hurried forward, breathing through his mouth. The odor was much stronger as he approached it. Although the carcass was large, he noticed there were no birds, rats, or other scavengers feeding on it. There were only flies – flies so dense they covered the skin, and obscured the outline of the dead animal.

Even so, it was clear that this had been a substantial creature, roughly the size of a cow or horse before the bloat began to enlarge it further. The dry skin had cracked under the sun and was now peeling upward, exposing the layer of runny, yellow subdermal fat beneath.

Oof, it stunk! Vector winced. He forced himself closer, directing all of his attention to the animal.

Although it was the size of a cow, it was clearly not a mammal. The skin was hairless. The original skin color appeared to be green. The pattern seemed similar to the skin of a lizard. The prominent skin folds at the neck, shoulder, and hip joints – again, like a lizard.

But the carcass was large. Vector estimated it had probably weighted about a hundred kilograms originally, roughly two hundred and twenty pounds. No lizards grew that large anywhere in the world, in exception to the Komodo dragons of Indonesia. Nine foot tall lizards, crocodile sized carnivores that ate goats and pigs and on occasion human beings or anthros as well. And even if perhaps the Komodo dragons somehow ended up down here, this would be a record sized animal.

He moved slowly around the carcass, nearly half of it was buried and it was laying on its side, making analysis difficult. The long neck was curved, the head hidden beneath the bulk of the body like a duck's head under feathers. Vector saw one forelimb, which seemed very small and weak. The distal appendage was buried in sand. He would dig that out and have a look at it, but he wanted to take pictures before he disturbed the specimen.

In fact, the more Vector saw of this carcass, the more carefully he thought he should proceed. Because one thing was clear – this was a very rare and possible unknown animal. If this discovery was as significant as he was beginning to think it was, then it was essential that it be properly documented.

Up the beach is friend was still shouting at the pilot, who kept shaking his head stubbornly. Curse those banana – republic bureaucrats, Vector thought. Why shouldn't her take any pictures? It couldn't harm anything. And it was vital that this creature should be properly documented.

He heard a thumping, and looked up to see a second helicopter circling the bay, its dark shadow sliding across the sand. This helicopter was ambulance white, with red lettering on the side. In the glare of the setting sun, he could not read it.

He went back to the carcass, noticing how the hind leg of the animal was powerfully muscled, very different from the foreleg. It suggested that this creature walked upright, balanced on strong hind legs. Many lizards were known to stand upright, of course, but none so large as this. In point of fact, Vector looked at the general shape of the creature, he felt increasingly certain this was not a lizard.

Standing by the thigh, he saw the epidermis was split open, no doubt from the gas buildup. But as Vector looked closer, he saw the split was in fact a large gash, and that it ran deep through the femorotibialis, exposing red muscle and pale bone beneath. He ignored the stench, and the white maggots that wriggled across the open tissues of the gash, because he realized that –

"Sorry there is nothing I can do," Guitierrez said coming over.

"Marty," Vector sighed. "I really need to take pictures here."

"I'm afraid you can't." he said, "I tired, but you just can't."

Farther down the beach, the white helicopter landed its whine diminishing. Men in uniforms began getting out.

"It looks like a large iguana-" Guitierrez said.

"No Marty," Vector said. "It's not an iguana."

"You're probably just thrown off because of its size. The fact is, here in Costa Rica, we occasionally encounter these-"

"Marty," Vector said coldly. "I am never _thrown off_."

"Well, of course, I didn't mean that-"

Back at the helicopter, the men were huddled together, putting on white surgical masks.

"And I'm not telling you, this is not a lizard," Vector said. He leaned in examining the gash. "Give me your knife."

"Why?"

"Just give it to me."

Guitierrez fished out his pocketknife, put the handle in Vector's out stretched hand, Vector peered steadily at the carcass. "I think you will find this interesting."

"What?"

"Right along the posterior dermal line, there is a –"

Suddenly, they heard a shouting on the beach, and looked up to see the men from the white helicopter running down the beach toward them. They carried tanks on their backs, and were shouting in Spanish.

"What are they saying?" Vector asked, frowning.

Guitierrez sighed. "They're saying to get back."

"Tell them we're busy," Vector said, and bent over the carcass again.

But the men kept shouting, and suddenly there was a roaring sound, and Vector looked up to see flamethrowers igniting, big red jets of flame roaring out in the evening light. He ran around the carcass toward the men, shouting, "No! No!"

But the men paid no attention.

He shouted, "No, this is a priceless-"

The first of the uniformed men grabbed Vector, and threw him roughly to the sand.

"What the hell are you doing?" Vector yelled, scrambling to his feet. But even as he said it, he saw it was to late, the first of the flames had reached the carcass, blackening the skin, igniting the pockets of methane with a blue _whump! _The smoke from the carcass began to rise thickly into the sky.

"Stop it! Stop it!" Vector turned to Guitierrez. "Make them stop it!"

But Guitierrez was not moving, he was staring at the carcass. Consumed by flames, the torso crackled and the fat sputtered, and then as the skin burned away, the flat ribs of the skeleton were revealed, and then the whole torso turned, and suddenly the neck of the animal swung up, surrounded by flames, moving as the skin contracted. And inside the flames Vector saw a long pointed snout, and rows of sharp predatory teeth, and hollow eye sockets, the whole thing burning like some medieval dragon rising in flames up into the sky.

* * *

His backpack slung over his shoulder, Vector walked toward the departure lounge. He turned to wave goodbye to Guitierrez, but his friend was already heading out the door, raising his arm to wave for a taxi. Vector shrugged, turned back.

Guitierrez had said, the Costa Rican government burned every carcass that they found. This made an obvious message to Vector that it had to be because of InGen.

Directly ahead was the customs desk, travelers lined up to have their passports stamped. He was booked on a night flight to San Francisco, with a long stopover in Mexico City; not many people were queuing up. He probably had time to call his office, and leave word for his secretary, he probably should call Malcolm too. Looking at a row of phons, he frowned, there were only four and all were full. He had better use his satellite phone in his backpack, he though, as he swung the pack off his shoulder, and perhaps it would be-

He paused, frowning.

He looked back at the wall.

Four people were using the phones. The first was a blonde woman in shorts and a halter-top, bouncing a young sunburned child in her arms as she talked. Next to her stood a bearded man in a safari jacked, who glanced at his gold watch. Then there was a gray-haired, grandmotherly woman talking in Spanish, while her two full-grown sons stood by, nodding emphatically.

And the last person was the helicopter pilot. He had removed his uniform jacket, and was standing in short sleeves and tie. He was turned away, facing the wall, shoulders hunched.

Vector moved closer, and heard the pilot speaking in English. Vector set his pack down and bent over it, pretending to adjust the straps while he listened. The pilot was still turned away from him.

He heard the pilot say. "No, no sir. It is not that way. No." then there was a pause. "No," the pilot said. "I am telling to you, no. I am sorry, Mr. Dodgson, but this is not known. It is an island, but which one….We must wait again for more. No, he leaves tonight. No, I think he does not know anything, an no pictures. No. I understand. Adiós."

Vector ducked his head as the pilot walked briskly toward the LACSA desk at the other end of the airport.

"What the hell?" he thought.

_It is an island, but which one…_

Maybe, he thought, we know more than we realize. He looked thoughtfully toward the departure gate. It was time to catch his flight.

* * *

They were meeting again same diner, late at night. The news Metal had however was not good. Ludlow stared at him, eyes full of fury.

"Where is he?" he growled.

"I don't know. And I'm afraid, uh, it's going to be hard to find out."

"Why is that?"

Metal hesitated, coughed. "Because he was on the passenger manifest of the flight from Costa Rica says he checked out of his motel in San José before the flight, and never went back. Didn't take any other flight out of the city. So, uh, for the moment, I'm afraid that Vector Levine has disappeared."

"There was a long silence. Ludlow sat back in the booth, hissing between his teeth. He looked at Dodgson, who shook his head. Ludlow very carefully picked up all the sheets of paper, tapped them on the table, making a neat stack. He slipped them back into the manila envelope, and handed the envelope to Dodgson.

"Now listen," Ludlow said. "There is only one thing I want from you now. It's very simple. Are you listening?"

Dodgson nodded. "I'm listening."

Ludlow leaned across the table, "_Find him,_" he said. "Now, unless you have anything else for me, I suggest you leave."

Dodgson leaned back, "Actually I do,"

Ludlow raised an eyebrow, "Oh?"

"A…._incident, _if you may call it." Dodgson said, "has just occurred recently that may have to do with InGen."

And then he smiled.

* * *

In his cluttered office in Berkeley, Shadow looked up from his desk as his assistant, Maria, came into the room. She was followed by a man from the DHL, carrying a small box.

"I'm sorry to disturb you, Dr. Malcolm, but you have to sign these forms…It's that sample from Costa Rica."

Shadow stood, and walked around the desk. He did not use his cane. In recent weeks, he had been working steadily to walk without the cane. He still had occasional pain in his leg, but he was determined to get past that.

If Levine were lucky enough to find this so-called "Lost World" he was probably going to be dragged along, and there was no point in having a weak leg.

Shadow took the clipboard from the deliveryman and quickly signed the top form: "Delivery of Excluded Materials / Samples: Biological Research."

The deliveryman said, "You have to check the boxes, sir."

Shadow looked at the list of questions running down the page, with a check beside each. Was the specimen alive? Was the specimen a culture of bacteria, fungi, viruses, or protozoa? Was the specimen registered under an established research protocol…

He checked off "No" to everything.

"And the next page, too sir," the deliveryman said. He was looking around the office, at the stacks of papers heaped untidily about, the maps on the walls with the colored pins stuck in them. "You do medical research here?"

Shadow flipped the page, scrawled his signature on the next form, "No."

"And one more, sir…."

The third form was a release of liability to the carrier. Shadow signed it as well. The delivery man said, "Have a good day sir," and left.

Shadow sighed and leaned against his desk. "What's in the package Maria?"

The blonde woman tore the wrapping off the package, revealing a small stainless-steel cylinder the size of his fist. A triple-bladed biohazard sign was taped across the screw top lid Attached to the cylinder was a second small canister with a metal valve; it contained the refrigerant gas.

Shadow swung the light over the cylinder, and said, "Let's see was Levine was so excited about." He broke the taped seal and unscrewed the lid. There was a hiss of gas, and a faint white puff of condensation. The exterior of the cylinder frosted over.

Peering in, he saw a plastic baggie, and a sheet of paper. He up-ended the cylinder, dumping the contents onto the table. The baggie contained a ragged piece of greenish flesh about two inches square with a small green plastic tag attached to it. He held it up to the light, examined it with a magnifying glass, then it set it down again. He looked at the green skin, the pebbled texture.

"_Maybe," _he thought, "_It couldn't be? Could it?"_

Maybe….

"Maria," he said, "call Sattler down at the university, tell I have something for her."

"Shelly Sattler?" Maria asked. "Doesn't she do plant life? Shouldn't you contact a zoo expert like Silver Harding? Or perhaps her old teacher Dr. Grant?"

"No, no," Shadow said, shaking his head, "Grant is too busy, as is Harding. But I'm pretty sure Sattler will be able to identify this, she worked with Grant long enough."

Maria nodded, and went out of the room to phone. Alone, Shadow unrolled the strip of paper that had come with the sample. It was a piece of paper torn from a yellow legal pad. In block printing, it said:

I WAS RIGHT AND YOU WERE WRONG.

Shadow frowned. That son of a bitch, he thought. "Maria? After you call Sattler, get Vector Levine at his office. I need to talk to him right away."

"Uh, sir," Maria said, "I just received a message for you. You're being summoned, he said it was urgent."

Shadow sighed, "Who?"

"He said his name was Big Hammond."

* * *

Shadow shifted nervously as he hit the doorbell to the large mansion. Chaos what was he doing here? What mad cosmic force brought him to the doorstep of the man who had caused all the trouble?

Before he could even think about retreating back to his car, a elderly butler opened the door, "Who shall I tell Mr. Hammond is calling."

Shadow suddenly felt a loss for words, " Uh, Dr. Shadow Malcolm? I have been, um, I have been summoned."

The butler nodded and stepped politely inside to let him in. "This way please." He said as he closed the door.

An old grandfather clock chimed as he followed the old man up the marble stairs in the entrance hall. Each step made the urge to leave stronger. "Wait here please." The butler informed, leaving Shadow at the top of the stairs.

Chaos what am I thinking? He thought.

A clicking of a door sounded in the distance but Shadow made no movement to follow the sound, till suddenly,

"Dr. Malcolm!"

Shadow turned around to see two very familiar faces hurrying down a flight of stairs to greet him.

"Oh my God," he said softly, a smile creeping up his lips. "Kids."

Tails and Creamed hurried towards him, faces bright and smiles wide. "Dr. Malcolm it's so good to see you!" Cream said.

They both rushed in hugging him, "Kids, kids" Shadow said, "It's so great to see you."

"It's great to see you to," Tails said pulling away.

"Look at you two," Shadow said, "You're all grown up, Tails are you starting college now? How are you're tails working for you."

"Yes," Tails said, "I'll be going in a few months. My tails are doing great. I'm able to fly for long periods of time, and carry my sister."

"That's great to hear. Cream! You're just lovely."

Cream smiled, tugging at her long hair, "Thank you Dr. Malcolm."

Both of the children had grown and were no longer the little kids he had met so long ago. Tails had grown in height, and now looked like a well built young man. Cream had blossomed like a rose, her tomboyish attire replaced with more feminine clothes and qualities. Both children had come a long way.

"You came to see Grandpa?" Tails asked.

"Yes," Shadow said, "He uh, wanted to see me."

"What ever happened to you never wanted to see him again?" Cream teased.

"Well I don't" Shadow said, "But it sounded urgent, is everything alright?"

Their smiles dropped, and Cream glanced down the hall, "Well, not exactly," she said.

"What do you mean?"

Tails shifted, "Something's…happened. I think it has to do with…you know."

"You think it had to do with the island?" Shadow asked. "But wasn't it destroyed? You saw it go up in flames, how…"

"We don't know." Cream said softly.

Shadow put a hand on her shoulder, as the sound of footsteps echoed off the stairs, the trio turned their heads and watched as a group of business men walked down them. All of them chattered at a indistinct tone, making it hard to hear. Another familiar face appeared, this one however, was none too friendly.

"Uh, listen kids," Shadow turned back to the youths. "It's been so good to see you. We should stay in touch more often. I'd like to know what's going on with you guys."

Tails nodded, "Yeah, we should. We have your office number actually. We'll call you sometime."

Shadow smiled, "Great. Again, it was good to see you."

"It was good to see you to, Dr. Malcolm," Cream said, as she and her brother hugged him once more. Before pulling back and walking off.

Shadow gave them one final wave before turning to the other man, busy signing papers. He looked up, "Ah Dr. Malcolm.

"Jack Ludlow." Shadow said coolly.

"Here to exchange dinosaur stories with my Uncle?" Ludlow asked.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

Ludlow sighed, "Don't play coy with me Dr. Malcolm. I know the rumors are true. And that my uncle, you , and many others know something that you won't speak about. But it doesn't matter anymore, I've learned everything I've needed to know. Even Miles and Cream knew about your little secrets you alongside my uncle."

"Leave them out of it." Shadow said.

"You signed a document before your visit to Isle Nublar that forbade you from discussing what you saw. But now I know there were dinosaurs on that island there is no longer any need to stay quiet."

Shadow growled, "If you plan on making the same mistake you uncle made that would be unwise. I was on that island; I saw what you did not see. I-"

"I will not be making the mistakes my uncle made," Ludlow, said, "I am merely, cleaning up the mess that nearly ruined InGen."

"Pity it didn't."

"InGen is my responsibility now Dr." Ludlow said, as he finished signing the papers, "And I will repair it at all costs."

"Your responsibility?" Shadow questioned, "What about Mr. Hammond."

Ludlow turned to him, walking slowly over, "It is out board of directors I must face, not my uncle. In a few weeks time InGen will be back on its feet again." He said as he walked by.

Shadow grabbed his arm stopping him short. "Not if I have anything to say about it."

Ludlow glared at him, "Careful…." He said, "This suit costs more than your education." He pulled away, leaving Shadow alone in the room.

* * *

"You were right and I was wrong. There! Did you ever expect to hear me say that?" Big Hammond said from his spot on his large bed.

Shadow stood by the entrance, silent as a stone, looking at the old cat he had come to loath so much.

Big sighed, "Thank God for Site B."

Shadow raised an eyebrow, "Site…B?"

"Yes," Big explained. "You see, Isle Nublar was just a showroom. Something for the tourists. Site B was the factory floor. Isle Sorna, eighty miles from Isle Nublar." He leaned forward, "We bred the animals there and nurtured them for a few month, and then moved them into the park."

Shadow walked closer, swallowing the lump in his throat, "Really? I did not know that."

"After the incident in the park," Big said, "The hurricane wiped out facility on Site B. Call it an act of God if you will. We had to evacuate and the animals were released, to mature on their own." He paused with a smiled, "'Life will find a way.' As you once so eloquently put it. By now we have a complete ecological system on the island, with dozens of species living in their own social groups. There are no fences, no boundaries or technology. And for six years I have kept it safe from human influence."

Shadow was shaking his head, "Well, hopefully, you have kept this island, this 'Site B' quarantined and contained. No animals sneaking off like last time I hope." He held up a finger, "But um. I am going to have to say I'm in shock about all this. Why didn't you say anything Hammond? I mean how are they still alive? You bred the lysine dependent. Why haven't they had, the coma, and died after- what was it? Twenty-four hours?"

Big laughed, "Yes! But by God, they're flourishing! That's one of the thousands of questions I want the team to answer."

Shadow was contemplating whether to hit the old man or not, but Hammond's statement caught him off guard. "Wait…did you say team?"

"Yes." Big said, clambering out of bed, "I've organized an expedition, to go in, and – oh thank you-"he said as Shadow helped him out, "to document them. To make the most spectacular living fossil record the world has ever seen."

"Go in a document…"Shadow echoed, "Wait, you mean with actual people?!"

"Yes," said Big cheerily, "The animals won't even know they're their. Very low impact. Strictly observation and documentation." He led Shadow to a computer, pointing, "Our satellites show that the animals are fiercely territorial. The carnivores are isolated on the interior of the island, while the herbivores are in the outer rim. The team can stay on the out rim as well. Don't worry I won't be making the same mistakes again." Big said with a laugh.

Shadow was shaking his head again, rubbing his eyes fiercely, "No. No. You're making all new ones. Gah!" He rubbed his face, "Big! So what you are saying there is another island with dinosaurs, no fences this time, and you want to send people in?! Very _few _people on the _ground_? Are you mad?" He dropped his hands, "Who are these for lunatics you are trying to con into this?"

Big shrugged, "Well it was difficult to explain to them what they will see. And in the long run I had to open my check book for half of them. But we were planning on a team of five. I was looking for the Vector Levine, who seemed so obsessed with figuring us out. But we can't seem to get a hold of him. But there is Manic Van Thorne, he's a male green hedgehog. He is a video documenter and provides field equipment. Snively Carr a human and Manic's partner in field equipment. We have our animal expert, and I was uh, hoping the last one would be you Malcolm."

Shadow pointed to himself. "Me? Why me? Why not Grant? Not like I would ever want him to go onto another damn dinosaur island."

Big sighed, patting Shadow on the shoulder, "We've been on the verge of chapter eleven since the whole incident with the park. There are those in the company who wanted to exploit Site B, in order to bail us out. They've been planning it for years and I've been able to stop them until now." He sighed again, "But you see, a few weeks ago. A American family on a yacht cruise, stumbled across Site B, and their wee girl was injured."

Shadow opened his mouth, but Big cut in, "Oh she's fine, she's fine. However, uh, the board of directors has used the incident to take control of InGen from me. Now it is only a matter of time before this 'Lost World' is found and pillaged. Public opinion is the one thing I can use to preserve it, but in order to rally that support. I need a complete photo record of those animals, alive and in their natural habitat."

Shadow sighed, "So you went from capitalist to naturalist in just six years." He rolled his eyes, "That's something."

Big patted his chest, "It's our last chance at redemption Malcolm."

There was a moment of silence before Shadow leaned in with a sigh, "Big…" he paused and then with a slight shake of his head, "No."

He pulled away, "Of course, no. And I'm going to the other members of your team and I'm going to stop them from going." Shadow reached for the phone, "Who's the animal expert by the way?"

Big pointed at him, "She, she came to me, I want you to know that."

Shadow turned, "Who did?"

Big shook as finger at him, "Leave it to you to have associations with the best people in so many fields."

Shadow paled, "No. No, no no, no! You did not send her."

"She came to me!"

Shadow growled and he marched up to that old cat, staring him right in the eye, "Tell me. TELL ME. You did not send Rouge!"

* * *

**Gasp!**

**What is this? Another chapter? In a little over twenty four hours? I must be feeling guilty for making you guys wait so long on the last one if this one came out so soon. I hope I can keep this up. :)**

**And look it's even a 5,000 + worded chapter! So I gave you a long one! We are so close to the island I can practically sense the raptors stalking us and hear the rexes roaring, and feel unknown predators hiding in the shadows! Soon the terror and action will start hurrah! Probably in two or three more chapters to!**

**Anyway I hope you enjoy this chapter! See you soon!**


	5. Grave Mistake

Chapter 5

**Grave Mistake**

Vector Levine pressed his face to the warm rock cliff, and paused to catch his breath. Six hundred feet below, the ocean surged, waves thundering brilliant white against the black rocks. The boat that had brought him was already heading east again, a small white speck on the horizon. It hat to return, for there was no safe harbor anywhere on this desolate, in hospitable island.

For now, they were on their own.

Vector took a deep breath, and looked down at Diego, twenty feet below him on the cliff face. Diego, a red salamander, was burdened with the backpack that contained all of their equipment, but he was young, strong and a native to the area. He smiled cheerfully, and nodded his head upward. "Have courage. It is not far now, señor." He had to shout over the roar of the ocean below.

"I hope so," Vector called back. When he had examined the cliff through the binoculars on the boat, this had seemed like a good place to make the ascent. But in fact, the cliff face was nearly vertical, and incredibly dangerous because the volcanic rock was crumbling and friable.

Vector raised his arms, fingers extending upward, reaching for the next handhold. He clung to the to the rock; small pebbles broke free and his hand slipped down. He gripped again, then pulled himself upward. He was breathing hard, from exertion and fear.

"Just twenty meters more, señor," Diego said encouragingly. "You can do it."

"I'm sure I can," Vector muttered. "Considering the alternative." As he neared the top of the cliff, the wind blew harder, whistling in his ears, tugging at his clothes. It felt as if it was trying to suck him away from the rock. Looking up, he saw the dense foliage that grew right to the edge of the cliff face.

Almost there, he thought. Almost.

And then, with a final heave, he pushed himself over the top and collapsed, rolling in soft wet ferns. Still gasping, he looked back and saw Diego come over lightly, easily; he squatted on the mossy grass, and smiled. Vector turned away, staring at the huge ferns overhead, releasing the accumulated tension of the clime in long shuddering breaths. His legs burned fiercely from the climb.

But no matter – he was here! Finally!

He looked at the jungle around him. It was primary forest, undisturbed by the hand of man. Exactly as the satellite images had shown. Vector had been forced to rely on satellite photographs, because there were no maps available of private islands such as this one. This island existed as a kind of lost world, isolated in the midst of the Pacific Ocean.

Vector listened to the sound of the wind, the rustle of the palm fronds that dripped water onto his face. And then he heard another sound, distant, like the cry of a bird, but deeper, more resonant. As he listened, he heard it again.

A sharp sizzle nearby made him look over. Diego had struck a match, was raising it to light a cigarette. Quickly, Vector sat up, pushed the younger man's hand away, and shook his head, no.

Diego frowned, puzzled.

Vector put his finger to his lips.

He pointed in the direction of the bird sound.

Diego shrugged, his expression indifferent. He was unimpressed. He saw no reason for concern.

That was because he didn't understand what they were up against, Vector thought, as he unzipped the dark-green backpack, and began to assemble the big Lindstradt rifle. The rifle had been specially manufactured for him in Sweden, and represented the latest in animal-control technology. He screwed the barrel into the stock, locked in the Fluger clip, checked the gas charge, and handed the rifle to Diego. Diego took it with another shrug.

Meanwhile, Vector removed a black pistol in its holster, and buckled it around his waist. He paused, removed the pistol, checked the safety twice, and put the pistol back into the holster. Vector got to his feet, and gestured for Diego to follow him.

Vector paused often, to consult his wrist compass. The dense jungle all around made it difficult to find a sense of direction. They were heading west, toward the interior of the island. He knew that the island. He knew that the island was the remains of an ancient volcanic crater, eroded and decomposed by centuries of weathering. The interior terrain consisted of a series of ridges that led down to the floor of the crater. But particularly here on the eastern side, the landscape was steep, rugged, and treacherous.

Suddenly the foliage opened up, revealing a vantage point. Vector was able to see to the far side of the island, a rim of hard black cliff, miles away. Between here and the cliffs they saw nothing but gently undulating jungle.

Beside him, Diego said, "_Fantástico."_

Vector quickly shushed him.

"Sir," he protested. "We are alone here."

Vector sighed, he told Diego, over and over on the boat. No talking once they reached the island. But it was now clear the salamander had not paid attention. At that moment, they heard a deep, rumbling sound, an unearthly cry that arose from somewhere in the forest below them. After a moment, the cry was answered, from another part of the forest.

Diego's eyes widened.

Vector mouthed: _Birds?_

Diego said nothing. He bit his lip, and stared out at the forest.

To the south, they saw a place where the tops of the trees began to move, a whole section of the forest that suddenly seemed to come to alive, as if brushed by wind. But the rest of the forest was not moving. It was not the wind.

Diego crossed himself quickly.

They heard more cries, lasting nearly a minute, and then silence descended again.

Vector moved off the ridge and headed down the jungle slope, going deeper into the interior.

He was moving forward quickly, looking at the ground, watching for snakes, when he heard a low whistle behind him. He turned and saw Diego pointing to the left.

Vector doubled back, pushed through the fronds, and followed Diego as he moved south. In a few moments, they came upon two parallel tracks in the dirt, long since overgrown with grass and ferns, but clearly recognizable as an old Jeep trail, leading off into the jungle. Of course they would follow it. He knew their progress would be much faster on a road.

He gestured to Diego, who took off his backpack. It was Vector's turn; he shouldered the weight, adjusted the straps.

Then together in silence, they started down the road.

They came to a stream, muddy banks on both sides. Here Vector paused. He saw clear three-toed footprints in the mud, some of them quite large. The palm of his own hand, fingers spread wide, fitted easily inside one of the prints, with room to spare.

When he looked up, Diego was crossing himself again. He held the rifle in his other hand.

They waited at the stream, listening to the gentle gurgle of the water. Something shiny glinted in the stream, catching his eye. He bent over, and plucked it out. It was a piece of glass tubing, roughly the size of a pencil. One end was broken off. There were graduated markings along the side. He realized it was a pipette, of the kind used in laboratories everywhere in the world. Vector held it up to the light, turning it in his fingers. It was odd, he thought. A pipette like this implied-

Vector turned, and caught a glimpse of movement out of the corner of his eye. Something small and brown, scurrying across the mud of the riverbank. Something about the size of a rat.

Diego grunted in surprise. Then it was gone, disappearing in the foliage.

Sitting on his haunches, Vector heard a soft squeak coming from somewhere to his right. Looking over, he saw the ferns moving slightly. He stayed very still, waiting.

After a moment, a small animal peeked out from among the fronds. It appeared to be the size of a mouse; it had smooth, hairless skin and large eyes mounted high on its tiny head. It was greenish-brown in color, and it made a continuous, irritable squeaking sound at Vector, as if to drive him away. Vector stayed motionless, hardly daring to breathe.

He regonized this creature, of course. It was mussaurus, a tiny prosauropod from the Late Triassic. Skeletal remains were found only in South America. It was one of the smallest dinosaurs known.

A _dinosaur,_ he thought.

Malcolm eat your heart out.

Even though he had expected to see them on this island, it was still startling to be confronted by a living, breathing member of the _Dinosauria. _Especially one so small. He could not take his eyes off it. He was entranced. After all these years, after all the dusty skeletons – an actual living dinosaur!

The little mussaur ventured farther out from the protection of the fronds. Now Vector could see that it was longer that he had thought at first. It was actually about ten centimeters long, with a surprisingly thick tail. All told, it looked very much like a lizard. It sat upright, squatting on its hind legs on the frond. He saw the rib cage moving as the animal breathed it waved its tiny forearms in the air Vector, and squeaked repeatedly.

Slowly, very slowly, Vector extended his hand.

The creature squeaked again, but did not run. If anything it seemed curious, cocking its head the way very small animals do, as Vector's hand came closer.

Finally Vector's fingers touched the tip of the frond. The mussaur stood on its hind legs, balancing with its outstretched tail. Showing no sign of fear, it stepped lightly onto Vector's hand, and stood in the creases of his palm. He hardly felt the weight, it was so light. The mussaur walked around, sniffed Vector's fingers. Vector smiled, charmed.

Then, suddenly, the little creature hissed in annoyance, and jumped off his hand, disappearing into the palms. Vector blinked, unable to understand why.

Then he smelled a foul odor, and heard a heavy rustling in the bushes on the other side. There was a soft grunting sound. More rustling.

For a brief moment, Vector remembered that carnivores in the wild hunted near streambeds, attacking animals when they were vulnerable, bending over to drink. But the recognition came too late; he heard a terrifying high-pitched cry, and when he turned he saw that Diego was screaming as his body was hauled away, into the bushes. Diego struggled; the bushes shook fiercely; Vector caught a glimpse of a single large foot, its middle toe bearing a short curving claw. Then the foot pulled back. The bushes continued to shake.

Suddenly, the forest erupted in frightening animal roars all around. He glimpsed a large animal charging him. Vector Levine turned and fled, feeling the adrenaline surge of pure panic, not knowing where to go, knowing only that it was hopeless. He felt a heavy weight suddenly tear at his backpack, forcing him to his knees in the mud, and he realized in that moment that despite all his planning, despite all his clever deductions, things had gone terribly wrong, and he was about to die.

* * *

"Tell me you didn't contact Rouge?"

Big sighed, "In animal behavior Rouge Harding is one of the best in her field, there was no way her father would work for me again anyway. Rouge is on the frontier of that field-"

Shadow shook his head, "Oh-no."

"-Her theories on parenting and nurturing amongst carnivores have started the debate."

Shadow turned around pacing around, searching.

"What are you doing?" Big asked.

"Searching, where is your phone," Shadow said. He found it under a stack of papers before Big could answer and quickly dial Rouge's number.

"It's too late."

He paused, turned his head slightly, "What?"

"She's already there."

Shadow shut the phone off, and turned to face Big. "The others were going to meet her in three days after the finished testing the field equipment."

The air became thick and Shadow found it hard to breath as he leaned back against the desk. "You….you sent my girlfr- one of my closest friends to that island alone?"

Big scoffed, "'Sent' is hardly the word, she could hardly be restrained. She was already working in Africa doing some research on the animals there. It's not too difficult to book a flight to Costa Rica from there." He poured a drink and walked over to Shadow, "And she was adamant absolutely adamant about- here you go," he paused to hand Shadow the drink before continuing, "about making the initial foray by herself. 'Observation without interference' she said. And she went on and on, well you know how it is."

Shadow just kept shaking his head, he was not hearing this, he was dreaming, this senile old man did not call Rouge to go down to the island. He was not hearing this! His throat felt thick and stuck, unable to swallow as the words kept coming. God would this man just shut up!

But Big kept going, "After you were injured in the park, she sought you out. Then she went all the way to the hospital in Costa Rica to ask you if the rumors were true."

"And I told her they weren't." Shadow sighed. "Ugh. If you want to leave your name on something, fine. But _stop _putting it onto other people's headstones." He stood up, slamming the glass down as he made his way to the exit.

Big followed, "Oh but she'll be fine. She's spent years studying African predators, you know, sleeping downwind and all. She knows what she's doing." Shadow stopped at the door, glancing back slightly. "And believe me the research team will-"

He held up his hand, taking a deep breath as he faced the man, "It is no longer a research expedition team. It's a rescue operation, and it's leaving right now!" and with those final words, Shadow turned walking briskly away.

Big watched him go, before walking slowly back to his desk, counting the people on his hand. One photographer, one field equipment expert, one animal expert, and one…. he glanced at his paperwork, one Dr. Malcolm.

And then Big smiled.

* * *

"Watch closely and examine the different lenses used in these action shots as the lionesses are hunting." Manic Van Thorne, explained as different photographs displayed on the screen, "See how lens with greater zoom and higher ISO are used to capture the image…"

Ex Curtis yawned in the darkness of her ninth-grade classroom. Sitting at her desk, she propped her chin on her elbows, and tried to stay away. She already knew this stuff. Dr. Thorne had already explained all this to her before.

"Next week we will be focusing on panorama shots and how to make a still clear picture. But this will be enough today. So that's it kids."

The lights came up. Their teacher, Mrs. Palanio , stepped to the front of the class and turned off the computer which had been running the display, and lecture.

"Well," she said, "I'm glad Dr. Thorne gave us this recording. He told me he might not be back in time for today's lecture, but he'll be with us again for sure when we return from spring break next week. Ex, you and Miles are working for Dr. Thorne, is that what he told you?"

Ex winced, in truth. Dr. Thorne was not very far from here. He was ordered to teach at the school by the local judge, for receiving multiple speeding and parking tickets and then failing to appear before the court. Half the time, he was teaching by video recording, while he worked at his shop not too far from the school.

"It's not like I hate you kids," he explained, "It's just that I have a very important project I'm working on and I need it done in time."

Ex glanced over at Miles, who was slouched low in his seat, frowning.

"Yes, Mrs. Palanio," Ex said.

"Good. All right everyone, the assignment for the holidays is all of chapter seven in your history book" – there were groans from the class – "Including all of the exercises at the end of part one, as well as part two. Be sure to bring that with you, completed, when we return. Have a good spring break. We'll see you back here in a week."

The bell rang: the class got up, chairs scraping, the room suddenly noisy. Miles drifted over to Ex. He looked up at her mournfully with sky blue eyes. Miles was a golden yellow fox, with black hair on his head, whilst Ex was a black hedgehog with short bright red hair, and orange streaks. Miles was a good head shorter than her; he was the shortest person in the class in fact. He was also the youngest. Ex was fifteen, like the other ninth-graders, but Miles was only thirteen. He had already skipped two grades, because he was so smart. And there were rumors he would be skipped again. Miles was a genius, particularly with computers.

Miles put his pen in the pocket of his white button-down shirt, and pushed his glasses up on his nose. Both of his parents were doctors in San Jose and made sure he dressed very neatly, like a collage kid or something…Well a very nerdy collage kid anyway. Which, Ex reflected, he would probably be in a couple of years, the way he was going.

Standing next to Miles, Ex always felt awkward and gawky. Ex had to wear her sister's old clothes, which he mother had bought from Kmart about a million years ago. She even had to wear her sister's old shoes, which were so scuffed and dirty that they never came clean, even after Ex ran them through the washing machine. Ex washed and ironed all of her clothes; her mother never had time. Her mother was never even home, most of the time. Ex looked enviously at Miles's neatly pressed pants and his polished penny loafers, and sighed.

Still, even though she was jealous, Miles was her only real friend – the only person who thought it was okay to be smart. Ex worried that he'd be skipped to the tenth grade, and see wouldn't see him anymore.

Beside her, Miles frowned. He looked up at her and said, "Why isn't Dr. Thorne here?"

"I don't know," she said. "Maybe something happened."

"Like what?"

"I don't know! Something…"

"But he _promised _he would be here," Miles said, "He promised he's take us on a field trip as a reward for all our hard work. It was all arranged. We got permission and everything."

"So? We can still go."

"But he should be here," Miles insisted stubbornly. Ex had seen this behavior before. Miles was accustomed to adults being reliable. His parents were both very reliable. Ex on the other hand, was not troubled by such ideas.

"Never mind, Miles," she said. "Let's just go see Dr. Thorne ourselves."

"You think so?"

"Sure. Why not?"

Miles hesitated. "Maybe I should call my mom first."

"Why?" Ex said. "You know she'll tell you that you have to go home. Come on, Miles. Let's just go."

He hesitated, still troubled. Miles might be smart, but any change in plans always bothered him. Ex knew from experience he would grumble and argue if she pushed for them to go alone. She had to wait, while he made up his own mind.

"Okay," he said finally. "Let's go see Thorne."

Ex grinned. "Meet you in front," she said, "in five minutes."

As she went down the stairs to from the second floor, the singsong chant began again. "Ex is a brainer, Ex is a brainer…"

She held her head high. It was that stupid Brittany Stone and her stupid friends. Standing at the bottom of the stairs, taunting her.

"Ex is a brainer…"

She swept past the girls, ignoring them. Nearby, she saw the hall monitor, paying no attention as usual. Even though the assistant principal, had recently made a special homeroom announcement about teasing kids.

Behind her, the girls called: "Ex is a brainer…She's the queen…of the screen…and it's gonna turn her green…" They collapsed in laughter.

Up ahead, she saw Miles waiting by the door, a bundle of gray cables in his hand. She picked up speed and hurried towards him.

When she got to him, he said, "Forget it."

"They're stupid jerkoffs."

"Right."

"I don't care anyway."

"I know. Just forget it."

Behind them, the girls were giggling. "E-x and Mi-les….going to a party…take a bath, in their math…"

They went outside into the sunlight, the sounds of the girls thankfully drowned out in the noise of everyone going home. Yellow school buses were in the parking lot. Kids were streaming down the steps to their parents' cars, which were lined up all around the block. There was a lot of activity.

Miles ducked a Frisbee that whooshed over his head, and glanced toward the street. "There he is again."

"Don't look at him," Ex said.

"I'm not, I'm not."

"Remember what Dr. Thorne said."

"Jeez, Ex. I remember, okay?"

Across the street was parked the plain gray Taurus sedan that they had seen, off and on, for the past two months. Behind the wheel, pretending to read a newspaper, was that same man with the steely gaze. This hedgehog had been following Dr. Thorne ever since he started to teach at the school. Ex believed that man was the reason Dr. Thorne asked her and Miles to be his assistants in the first place.

"You're job would be to carry equipment for me," Dr. Thorne had explained.

They thought it would be for class. But it turned out there never was anything to be done for the class; Dr. Thorne did all that himself. Instead, he sent them on lots of little errands. And he told them to be careful and avoid the hedgehog in the car. This wasn't very difficult seeing as the man never paid any attention to them.

"Ah, it's just the cops making sure I'm being good." Dr. Thorne had joked, "Don't want me speeding anymore."

Ex didn't believe that. Her mother had been arrested for drunk driving twice, and there was never anybody following her. So Ex didn't know why this man was following Thorne, but clearly Thorne was doing some secret work and he didn't want anybody to find out. Ex knew one thing, he was obviously very busy on the work he was doing because he was almost never prepared to teach the class. Often he would teach things off the top of his head. Other times he would walk in the front door of the school, hand them a taped lecture, and walk out the back. They never knew where he went on those days.

The errands he sent them on were mysterious, too. Once they went to Stanford and picked up five small squares of plastic from a professor there. The plastic was light, and sort of foamy. Another time they went downtown to and electronics store and picked up a triangular device. Another time they picked up a metal tube that looked like it contained cigars. They couldn't help opening it, but they felt uneasy to find four sealed plastic tubes of straw-colored liquid. The tubes were marked **EXTREME DANGER! LETHAL TOXCITY! **and had the three-bladed international symbol for biohazard.

But mostly their assignments were mundane. He often sent them to libraries at Stanford to Xerox papers on all sorts of subjects: Japanese sword-making, X-ray crystallography, Mexican vampire bats, Central American volcanoes, the mating behavior of mountain sheep, sea-cucumber toxicity, flying buttresses of Gothic cathedrals…

Occasionally Ex wondered what the steely eyed hedgehog would make of all this. She wondered whether he knew something or not. But actually, the hedgehog seemed kind of lazy. He never seemed to figure out that Ex and Miles were doing errands for Dr. Thorne.

Right now, the hedgehog glanced over at the entrance to the school, ignoring them. They walked to the end of the street, and sat on the bench to wait for the bus.

* * *

**Another chapter! Yay! **

**And more characters for you to keep track of. Less of a yay! lol.**

**Now remember the Miles in this story is Anti-Tails in the Sonic World. So this is not "Tails" from Jurassic Park. Remember that now. :) Anyway I hope you enjoyed this chapter of The Lost World!**

**P.S. If you haven't read Jurassic Park yet. WHAT ARE YOU STILL DOING HERE? Go back and read the first one, then come back and read this one lol, it will make so much more sense.**

**See ya'll soon!**


	6. Preperations

Chapter 6

**Preparations**

"You can't shave three days off my deadline and expect everything to be ready," the human complained as he wove his way around the crowded shop.

Shadow stared at the human with a glare as he followed punching buttons in a satellite phone. The man was extremely short for his height, shorter than Shadow in fact, who was short naturally. He was an anthro after all, they rarely reached five feet. Snively Carr however, was a peculiar man. With a large pointed noise, large eyes and only about five hairs on his head, he was an odd sight to behold.

"I'm not supplied. I haven't tested any of this," Carr went on, "Thorne is gonna have a fit when he finds out."

Shadow growled, ignoring the human's complaining has he gave the satellite phone a soft smack, "Dammit, why did you have to give her a damn satellite phone if it doesn't work, what is the matter with this thing!" he demanded.

"Eh," Carr said glancing back only slightly, "It could be anything, Solar flares, the satellite could be out of sync, or maybe she just turned it off." Carr pointed at a group of workers nearby, "I need half air on those tires, we're going to flying pressurized."

"Does Rouge even know how to use it?" Shadow said.

Carr turned to him, walking backwards, "What are you kidding? She's faxed me refinements for 50% of the plans for this stuff. She knows her tech."

Shadow rolled his eyes, banging the phone against the fender of a large double trailer. Carr immediately reached for it, "Ow, ow, ow! Don't do that! You got to baby it a little bit. Love it."

Shadow handed it over, "Well I'll love it when it works." He stated, as a car backed into the large shop quickly.

"It'll work when you love it," Carr insisted.

Shadow dropped his bag of stuff on the floor, "Are you coming along Carr?"

The human shrugged, "Eh, I usually don't, but I can't resist the pay."

The car door opened and a green male hedgehog stepped out, slamming the door shut with a bang, "Thanks for the two minute warning, Snively," he moaned.

"Told you he wouldn't be happy," Carr mumbled to Shadow before speaking up, "Manic Van Thorne this is Dr. Shadow Malcolm."

Thorne barely spoke out a 'hi' as he walked swiftly to the back of his van. "Manic here is the other field equipment expert as well as our field photographer."

"How do you do," Shadow said stepping back slightly as Thorne yanked open the doors, "Photography? What's your background exactly? Do you do wildlife photography?"

Thorne shrugged, "Only as a hobby, but yeah, wildlife, combat, you name it." He explained as he pulled out cases of equipment, "I travel around a lot with it, but I prefer to work on the field equipment. Snively here makes sure the work gets done while I'm away."

"And that's how you got Hammond's attention?"

Thorne nodded, "Yep, and this time I'm getting paid. Hammond's check cleared, or I wouldn't be going on this wild goose chase." He said as he walked away.

Shadow scoffed calling after, "Hmph, well where you're going to is the only place in the world where the geese chase you!"

"Thorne Mobile Field Systems" was stenciled in black lettering on a large rolling metal garage door, at the far end of the Industrial Park. There was a regular door to the left. Miles pushed the buzzer on a small box grille. A gruff voice said, "Go away."

"It's us; we're here to see Dr. Thorne. It's Arby and Kelly."

"Oh, you kids, come on in."

There was a click and the door unlocked, and they walked inside. They found themselves in a large open shed. Workmen were making modifications on several vehicles; the air smelled of acetylene, engine oil, and fresh paint. Directly ahead Ex saw two dark-green Ford Explorers. One of the Explorers had its roof cut open; two assistants stood on ladders, fitting a large flat panel of black solar cells over the top of the car. The hood of the other Explorer was up, and the V-6 engine had been pulled out; workman were now lowering a small, new engine in its place – it looked like a rounded shoebox, with the dull shine of aluminum alloy, Others were bringing the wide, flat rectangle of the Hughes converter that would be mounted on top of the motor.

Over to the right, she saw the two RV trailers that Thorne's team had been working on for the last few weeks. They were not the usual trailers you saw people driving for the weekends. One was enormous and sleek, almost as big as a bus, and outfitted with living and sleeping quarters for five people, as well as all sorts of special scientific equipments. It was called the "Challenger" and it had an unusual feature: once you parked it, the walls could slide outward, expanding the inside dimensions.

The Challenger trailer was made to connect through a special accordion passageway to the second trailer, which was somewhat smaller, and was pulled by the first. This second RV contained laboratory equipment and some very high-tech refinements, though Ex wasn't sure exactly what. Right now, the second trailer was nearly hidden by the huge stream of sparks that spit out from a welder on the roof. Despite all the activity, the trailer looked mostly finished – although she could see people working inside, and all the upholstery, the chairs and seats, were lying on the ground outside.

"It's really busy today," Miles, noted, "I've never seen so many people working."

Ex shrugged, "Maybe that's why Dr. Thorne couldn't make it today, he was too busy." She pointed, "Look, he's over there."

Thorne himself was standing in the middle of the room, next to a black hedgehog with red stripes. Thorne was shouting at the welder on the roof of the camper. "Come on, come on, we've got to be finished today! Snively, let's go!" He turned, shouted again, "No, no, no! Look at the plans! Cyrus: you cannot place that strut laterally. It has to be crosswire, for strength. Look at the plans!"

Manic Van Thorne was a green furred hedgehog, with the wildest quills to be seen on a hedgehog. They stuck out in every direction, like a wild jumble of porcupine spikes. His eyes were light amber. He was only thirty-five years old. But his intelligence was more comparable to a man with more years under his belt. His maturity level varied for he often joked with the kids and talked in surfer lingo, but was more serious when it came to his work. His clothes spoke out younger year, with spikes wrapped around his white gloves, an orange open vest with a brown belt and fanny pack, two gold hoops on his right and a silver stud on his left ear.

It was hard for Ex to imagine Thorne as a university professor, for while being intelligent, he was also extremely strong and athletic. "Damn it, Cyrus! Cyrus! Cyrus! Are you listening to me?!"

Thorne swore again, shaking his fist in the air. He turned to the kids and immediately smiled, and a friendly air came about him, "I keep telling you little dudes," he said. "They're supposed to be _helping _me. But they never do. Aw well." From the Explorer, there was a white-hot crack like lightning. The two men leaning into the hood jumped away, as a cloud of acrid smoke rose above the car. Thorne cursed, turning to face the men, "What'd I tell you!" he shouted. "_Ground it! _Ground it before you do anything! We've got serious voltages here, guys! You're going to get fried if you're not careful!"

He looked back at the kids and shook his head. "They just don't get it," he said. "That IUD is serious stuff."

Miles's ears perked up, curious, "IUD?"

"Yep, Internal Ursine Deterrent – that's what Snively and I call it. It's his idea of a joke," Thorne said, "Actually I developed this system a few years back for park rangers in Yellowstone, where bears break into trailers. Flip a switch and you run ten thousand volts across the out skin of the trailer. Wham-o! Takes the fight out of the biggest bear. But that kind of voltage'll blow these guys right off the trailer. And then what? I get a workmen's-compensation suit. For their stupidity." He shook his head. "So? What brings you two here?"

Ex opened her mouth when suddenly the black hedgehog walked up, "How soon will we be ready to leave?"

Thorne looked over, "Oh? Soon, give me twelve hours at least, and we'll be up and heading to Costa Rica in no time." He looked at the two children staring at him full of curiosity. "Uh, kids. Meet . He's a mathematician and an expert in the theory of chaos. Dr. Malcolm this is Ex Curtis and Miles Benton, they've been my assistants for the past few weeks."

Miles stuck out his hand, "Pleased to meet you Dr. Malcolm, I've heard a lot about your work."

"Pleased to meet you," Dr. Malcolm said, shaking Miles's hand, before firmly shaking Ex's.

"Nice to meet you," Ex mumbled. Ex didn't know who he was, but his name sounded familiar.

Thorne shoved his hands into his pockets, "So as I was saying, what brings you two here?"

Miles immediately spoke up, "You didn't show up to teach class today. And you said, I quote, 'Definitely be there'."

Thorne looked surprised, "Today? Isn't is Saturday?"

"No," Miles frowned, "It's Friday, and you were supposed to teach."

Thorne rubbed the bridge of his nose, his eyebrows knitting together in frustration, "Ugh, I'm sorry kids, I totally lost track of time. Is it really Friday? Dammit. I've just been so busy…" He lowered his hands, giving them an apologetic look, "I'm sorry, you did get the backup video though?"

Ex nodded, "Yeah, we got it."

"Good." Thorne sighed, "Chaos I can't believe I forgot…"

From the ceiling, a large metal cage came crashing down, landing next to them on the floor. Malcolm cursed and Thorne jumped aside, "Snively! Damn will you watch it?!"

The human, whom the children recognized from previous visits, went by the name of Snively Carr. He shrugged from the rafters, "Sorry."

Malcolm inspected the cage it was circular, constructed of inch-thick titanium-alloy bars. It had survived the fall without harm. And it was light; it could be easily lifted with on hand. It was about six feet high and five feet wide. It had a swing door with an heavy lock. "What is it?"

Carr climbed down, "It's a high hide. It can be lifted to a height of twenty feet, to keep researchers safe from animals."

Malcolm did not seem impressed, "Actually that puts them at a rather convenient biting height."

Carr gave him an odd look before continuing, "Anyway, I had to test it to make sure the cable and clip would hold. The clips were too weak so…"

Thorne nodded, "That's fine, Snively. But don't test it when we're under it next time. What clips did you use?"

"The 5.0 clips."

Thorne nodded again, "Try the 7.5 those should be strong enough, to hold the cage and our weight, pack a set of 10.0's just in case though."

"What is it for?" Miles asked.

Carr looked at the young fox, "It's a high-hide….you know... For hiding…up high."

"Actually," Thorne said, "its part of _that." _He pointed across the room, where workman were working on a larger rectangular cage, built of similar thickness, and the same metal. This cage was about five feet high, six feet long, and four feet wide, with about six inches of distance between bars. "That cage is for the ground, in case one of the researchers can't get to the trailers of the high-hide. We'll be installing a thick padlock for the door."

"What are the researchers observing?"

"Sorry kid," Thorne said, "I can't tell you. Because I don't know." He looked at one of the workers, a lion, who was welding on the trailer, "Cyrus! Why in the hell did we do all these simulations, if you guys aren't going to follow the plans? Is everybody brain-dead around here?"

"Sorry Manic..."

"Don't be sorry! Be right!"

"Well, we're massively overbuilt anyway-"

"Oh? Is that you decision? You're the designer now? Just follow the plans! Here I'll go get the plans for you! We've got to be in Costa Rica as soon as possible and I don't want a single screw up!" Thorne stormed off, heading for his office.

"Dr. Thorne wait!" Ex called racing after.

"What is it kiddo?"

"Where are you going?" Miles asked.

"On a little trip." Thorne quickly replied.

"But you promised to take us on a trip to test the equipment!" Ex said.

Thorne placed a hand on his face, swearing, "Dammit, I did, didn't I?" He turned to the kids, "I'm sorry kids, but there has been a change in plans."

"Can't we still go!" Miles begged.

"Yeah," Ex agreed, "We can still come can't we? You're going to Costa Rica right? What's so bad about going to Costa Rica?"

"According to Malcolm it's really bad," Thorne mumbled.

"We're old enough!" Miles protested, "We've got permission from our parents and everything!"

"We can handle ourselves!" Ex said.

"Kids I'm sorry," Thorne sighed, "It's out of the question."

"But we earned it!"

"We already have permission!"

"You have permission," Thorne said severely, "to go on a field test in the woods a hundred miles from here. But we're not doing that. We're going someplace that might be very dangerous, and you're not coming with us, and that's final."

"But-"

"Kids," Thorne said. "I'm sorry, no. I'm going to go make a phone call. You get your stuff together. You're going home."

And he turned and walked away.

"Gee," Kelly said.

"That's not fair," Miles pouted.

"Get with the program, Miles," Thorne said, not looking back. "You two just can't go. Period."

He went into his office and slammed the door.

Miles struck his hands into his pockets, "But we worked so hard to."

"I know, Miles," she said. "But we can't make him take us."

They looked over, as Malcolm walked by, punching buttons into a satellite phone. "Dr Malcolm, why can't we come?"

"Sorry," Malcolm said, "Thorne has made up his mind, and frankly, I agree with him."

"But what is so bad about Costa Rica?" Ex asked.

"The answer is no, kids. It's just….." he paused, looking worried about something, "It's just too dangerous.

Dejected, they drifted over to the vehicles, gleaming beneath the ceiling lights. The Explorer with the black panels on the roof and hood, the inside crammed with glowing electronic equipment. Just looking at the Explorer gave them a sense of adventure – an adventure they would not be part of.

Miles peered into the larger trailer, cupping his eyes over the window. Wow, look at this!"

"I'm going in," Ex said, and she opened the door. She was momentarily surprised at how solid and heavy it was. Then she climbed up the steps into the trailer.

Inside, the trailer was fitted out with grey upholstery and much more electronic equipment. It was divided into sections, for different laboratory functions. The main area was a biological lab, with specimen trays, dissecting pans, and microscopes that connected to video monitors. The lad also included biochemistry equipment, and a series of automated sample-analyzers. All the lab equipment was miniaturized, and built into small tables that slid into the walls, and then bolted down.

"This is so _cool!"_ Miles said.

Ex did not answer. She was looking closely at the lab. Dr. Thorne had designed this trailer, apparently with a very specific purpose. There was no provisions for geology, or botany, or chemistry, or lots of other things that a field team might be expected to study. It was not a general scientific lab at all. There really seemed to be just a biology unit, and a large computer unit.

Biology and computers.

Period.

What had this trailer been built to study?

Set in the wall was a small bookshelf, the books held in place with a Velcro strap. She scanned the titles: _Modeling Adaptive Biological Systems, Vertebrate Behavioral Dynamics, Adaptation in Natural and Artificial Systems, Dinosaurs of North America, Preadaptation and Evolution…_It seemed like a strange set of books to take on a wilderness expedition; if there was logic behind it, she didn't see it.

She moved on. At intervals along the walls, she could see where the trailer had been strengthened; dark carbon-honeycomb strips ran up the walls. She had overheard Thorne saying it was the same material used in supersonic jet fighters. Very light and very strong. And she noticed that all the windows had been replaced with that special glass with fine wire mesh inside it.

Why was the trailer so strong? It made her a little uneasy, when she thought about it.

Still uneasy, Ex moved toward the back of the trailer, where there was a homey living area, complete with gingham curtains on the windows. Compact kitchen, a toilet, and five beds. Storage compartments above and below the beds. There was even a little walk in shower. It was nice.

From there, she went through the accordion pleating that connected the two trailers. It was a little bit like the connection between the two railway cars, a short transitional passage. She emerged inside the second trailer, which seemed to be mostly lab and part utility storage: extra tires, spare parts, more large lab equipment, shelves and cabinets. All a significant sign to an expedition meant for some far off place. There was even a motorcycle hanging off the back of the trailer, right next to the large window. She tried some of the cabinets but they were locked.

But even here there were extra strong reinforcing strips as well. This section had also been built especially strong.

Why? She wondered. Why so strong?

"Look at this," Miles said in awe, standing before a wall unit. It was a complex of glowing LED displays and lots of buttons, and looked to Ex like a complicated thermostat.

"What does it do?"

"Monitors the whole trailer," he said. "You can do everything from here. All the systems all the equipment. And look, there's a TV…" he pushed a button, and a monitor glowed to life. It showed Snively Carr walking towards them, across the floor.

"And hey what's this?" Mile said. At the bottom of the display was a button with a security cover. He flipped the cover open. The button was silver and said DEF/

"Hey, I bet this is that bear defense Dr. Thorne was talking about." Ex said.

A moment later, Carr opened the trailer door and said, "You better stop that, you'll drain the batteries. Come on, now. You heard what the doc said. Time for you kids to go home."

Miles and Ex exchanged glances.

"Okay," Ex said. "We're going."

Reluctantly, they left the trailer.

They walked across the shed to Thorne's office to say goodbye. Miles sighed, "I wish he'd let us go."

"Me, too."

"I don't want to stay home for break," he said. "They're just going to be working all the time." He meant his parents.

"I know."

Ex did not want to go home, either. This idea of a field test during spring break was perfect for her, because it got her out of the house, and out of a bad situation. Her mother did data entry in an insurance company during the day, and at night worked as a waitress. So her mom was always busy doing her jobs, and he latest boyfriend, Drew, tended to hand around the house a lot at night. It had been okay when her big sister had been there. But she was studying nursing at the community college, so Ex was alone in the house. Moreover, Drew was somewhat creepy. Nevertheless, her mother liked Drew, so she never wanted to hear Ex say anything bad about him. She just told Ex to grow up.

So now Ex went to Thorne's office, hoping against hope that at the last minute he would relent. He was on the phone, his back to them. And he was in his work mode. They knocked on the door, opened it a little.

"Bye, Dr. Thorne."

"See you, Dr. Thorne."

Thorne turned, holding the phone to his ear. "Bye, kids." He gave a brief wave.

Ex hesitated. "Listen, could we talk to you for a minute about-"

Thorne shook his head, "No."

"But-"

"No, Ex. I've really got to place this call now," he said. "Rouge Harding hasn't answered her phone, and everyone is trying to get a hold of her."

"Who?"

"Rouge Harding."

Rouge Harding? _The _Rouge Harding. Her hero? One of the leading experts in the behavior of carnivorous animals? The one person she would be dying to see in person just once.

"Rouge Harding is going to be with you?" she said, lingering at the door.

Thorne sighed, "I don't know." He shrugged. "Have a good vacation kids. See you in a week. Thanks for your help." He looked across the garage. "Snively, the kids are leaving. Show them the door, please. And get me those papers! And pack your bag; we need to be out of here as soon as possible!" The he cursed, his voice dropping low, as he glared at the phone, "Dammit Rouge, why won't you pick up?"

He dialed again, and he turned away.

* * *

**And yet another chapter. Yay!**

**Anyone catch the 'Convinent biting height' pun from Shadow? That was one of my favorite lines from the Lost World film. Why build a cage to lift you twenty feet in the air, when the T-rex's head is at the same height ^_^' He's trying to warn them he really is. Perhaps the direct route?**

**Hey we're going to an island full of dinosaurs, you might want to change you strategy...**

**Nah, That just sounds silly.**

**They'll all find out soon enough anyway ;)**

**See you for the next chapter!**


	7. Isla Sorna

Chapter 7

**Isla Sorna**

Manic drove to the airport, the lights of San Francisco disappearing behind them. It had taken Snively and his crew almost twenty-four hours to finish all of the equipment, twelve hours too much on Manic's account. He had an uneasy feeling about this trip, Malcolm wasn't very good at giving information, as if the whole thing was just outlandish.. And Hammond, well, all Hammond gave him was a check. Like he stated to Malcolm, he wouldn't be going if it wasn't for the check, that and Rouge Harding.

Manic knew who Rouge was of course. She had ordered and helped design countless vehicles and field equipment for her studies in Africa, and other places. He had known her for a few years, and respected her for her go to attitude and the ability to get down to work right away, while at the same time, always seeming laid back and at ease. Therefore, as the years went by, Manic even came to consider her a friend. Rouge had gone ahead of them to Costa Rica, so what? It did not bother him. Then Malcolm showed up, stating they needed to push ahead in schedule, skip the testing, it was an emergency. Malcolm was a stone mask, but even then, his unease was clear, slipping through cracks. Now Manic wasn't so sure if Rouge was safe anymore.

Malcolm sat in the passenger seat. He looked back at the Explorer behind them. Where Snively was driving. "Snively doesn't like the fact he has no idea what's going on, care to tell me to set him at ease." Manic spoke up.

Malcolm shrugged, "I could, but you wouldn't believe me. You'd probably turn the car around if I did."

"Try me, you might be surprised how much I believe."

Malcolm smirked then, "That's what I said to Big Hammond, six years ago. I thought I could handle anything he threw at me." His face went solemn, "Turns out, I had to see it for myself before I actually believed in what he was doing?"

Manic sighed, well that made everything feel better. "So you can't tell me?"

"I'm sorry; I just don't know how to explain it."

There was a beeping alongside him. Manic pulled out his little black Envoy, radio pager. A light was flashing. He flipped up the screen, and handed it to Malcolm. "Read it to me."

"It's from Miles," Malcolm said. "Says, 'Have a good trip. If you want us, call. We'll be standing by if you need anything.' And he gives a phone number."

Manic felt a pang of regret. The kids had wanted to badly to come. They had worked hard, and were excited for the trip, and all he did was shut them down. He had noticed Ex's longing upon hearing Rouge Harding was going to be there. And could he blame her? There wasn't too many people better to have as a child hero as Rouge Harding. Ex had chosen wisely.

Manic laughed half-heartedly. "You got to love those kids. They never give up." The he frowned, as a thought occurred to him. "What's the time on the message?"

"Four minutes ago," Malcolm said. "Came in via Netcom."

"Okay. Just checking."

They turned right, toward the airport. They saw the lights in the distance. Malcolm stared forward gloomily. "It was very unwise for Rouge to go rushing in like this. It's not the right way to go about it."

Manic shrugged, "She'll be fine, and so will we, as long as we get the right island."

"We will," he said.

"Which one was it again?"

"Isle Sorna,"

They drove a moment in silence. "Who else besides us knows about the island?" Manic asked.

Malcolm said, "Well, with Hammond out of power. Jack Ludlow now knows about it. And I'm sure he'll try to do something too." He paused, "And, well,"

"What?" Manic asked.

"Have you noticed anyone following you lately?"

Manic flinched, "I have actually. A hedgehog, I saw him a few times while I was teaching at the school. Then I realized he was following me. He started to show up around the time Hammond hired me to make equipment."

Malcolm nodded, "So it seems someone was trying to find out about the island before Hammond informed us. Because I also had someone following me for awhile, he disappeared a few months ago though. I think he went to study you."

"But you didn't know anything about the island, did you?"

"No, I thought there was only one, but it makes more sense now to have two islands."

"So, there might be someone else on the island? Besides us?" Manic asked.

"I hope not," Malcolm said, "Let's hope for now, we're on our own."

* * *

There was a drenching downpour in Puerto Cortés. Rain drummed on the roof of the little metal shed beside the airfield. Dripping wet, and rather irritated, Manic stood and waited while the Costa Rican official went over the papers, again and again. Manic already, what was it? Roger, Rodríguez, yes that was it. He was just a kid in his twenties, wearing an ill-fitting uniform, terrified of making a mistake.

Manic looked out at the runway, where in the soft dawn light, the cargo containers were being clamped to the bellies of two big Huey helicopters. Snively Carr was out there in the rain with Malcolm, shouting as the workmen secured the clamps.

Rodríguez shuffled the papers. "Now, Señor Thorne, according to this, your destination is Isla Sorna…."

"That's right."

"And your containers have only vehicles?"

"Yes, that's right. Research vehicles."

"Sorna is a primitive place. There is not petrol, no supplies, not even any roads to speak of…"

"Have you been there?"

"Myself, no. People have no interest in this island. It is a wild spot, rock and jungle. And there is no place for a boat to land, except in very special weather conditions. For example, today one cannot go there."

"I understand," Manic said.

"I just with that you will be prepared," Rodríguez said, "for the difficulties you will find there."

"I think we're prepared."

"You are taking adequate petrol for your vehicles?"

Manic sighed. Why bother to explain? "Yes, we are."

"And there are just three of you, Dr. Malcolm, yourself, and your assistant, Señor Carr?"

"Correct."

"And your intended stay is less than one week?"

"That correct. More like two days: with any luck, we expect to off the island sometime tomorrow. But we'll radio our ride if we need more time or if we're ready."

Rodríguez shuffled the papers again, as if looking for a hidden clue. "Well…"

"Is there a problem?" Manic said, glancing at his watch.

"No problem señor. The Director General of the Biological Preserves signed your permits. They are in order…" Rodríguez hesitated. "But it is very unusual, that such a permit would be granted at all."

"Why is that?"

"I do not know the details, but there was some trouble on one of the islands a few years ago, and since then the Department of Biological Preserves has closed all the Pacific islands to tourists."

"We're not tourists," Manic sighed.

"I understand that, Señor Thorne."

More shuffling of papers.

Manic waited.

Out on the runway, the container clamps locked in place, and the containers lifted on the ground.

"Very well, Señor Thorne," Rodríguez said finally, stamping the papers. "I wish you good luck."

"Thank you," Manic said. He tucked the papers in his pocket, ducked his head against the rain, and ran back out onto the runway.

* * *

Three miles offshore, the boat broke through the coastal cloud layer, into early-morning sunlight. Waiting in the helicopter cockpit of the lead Huey, Manic could look up and down the coast. He saw five islands at various distances offshore – harsh rocky pinnacles, rising out of the rough blue sea. The islands were each several miles apart, undoubtedly part of an old volcanic chain.

He pressed the speaker button. "Which is Sorna?"

The pilot pointed ahead as he prepped the chopper for takeoff. "We call them the Five Deaths," he said.

"Isla Muerte, Isla Matanceros, Isla Pena, Isla Tacano, and Isla Sorna, which is the big one farthest north."

"Have you been there?"

"Never, señor. But I believe there will be a landing site." He explained as the helicopter lifted off the boat.

"How do you know?"

"Some years ago, there were some flights there. I have heard the Americans would come, and fly there sometimes."

"No one else?"

"There were Germans once, but that was since…..I do not know. Many years ago. The World War. But this time, there were Americans that came."

"When was that?"

"I'm not sure. Perhaps ten, twelve years ago."

The helicopter turned north, passing over the nearest island. Thorne Manic glimpsed rugged, volcanic terrain, overgrown with dense jungle. There was no sign of life, or of human habitation.

"To the local people, these islands are not happy places," the pilot said. "They say, no good comes from here." He smiled. "But they do not know. They are superstitious Indians."

"Is that why the boat driver was nervous?"

"Yes, he will not stay near those islands. He will be nearby with a satellite phone. He said to call, and he will come with the boat and the helicopters."

Now they were over open water with Isla Sorna directly ahead. It was clearly an old volcanic crater: bare, reddish-gray rock walls, and eroded cone.

"Where do the boats land?"

The pilot pointed to where the sea surged and crashed against the cliffs. "On the east side of this island, there are many caves, made by the waves. Some of the caves go all the way through the interior, and a boat can pass through at certain times. But now in the weather as you see it now. There is also a river going through the island that comes out into the sea, but the boats do not go in there."

"How come?"

"Rumor from the natives, that boats go in there." The pilot explained, "And they not come out."

Manic thought of Rouge Harding. She was on that island somewhere. Malcolm wasn't the only one nervous about the island. The natives and the government were too.

"Will you be here tomorrow?"

"I have a job tomorrow that will take all day." The pilot said, "I will not be available till the day after tomorrow. But on that day we will be on the boat waiting for your call."

The helicopter approached from the west, rising several hundred feet, moving over the rock cliffs to reveal the interior of Isla Sorna. It appeared just like the others: volcanic ridges and ravines, heavily overgrown with dense jungle. It was beautiful from the air, but Manic knew it would be dauntingly difficult to move through the terrain. He stared down, looking for roads.

The helicopter thumped lower, circling a small plain on the exterior of the island a low mist covered the area, masking it with a white blanket. Manic saw no buildings, no roads. The helicopter descended toward the jungle edge.

"Because of the cliffs," the pilot explained, "The winds are very bad. Many gusts and updrafts. There is only one place on the island where it is safe to land." He peered out the window. "Ah. Yes. There."

Manic saw an open clearing, overgrown with tall grass.

"We land there," the pilot said.

* * *

Snively Carr stood in the tall grass of the clearing, turned away from the flying dust as the two helicopters lifted off the ground and rose into the sky. In a few moments they were small specks, their sound fading. Snively shaded his eyes as he looked upward. In a forlorn voice he said, "When're they coming back?"

"When we call them," Manic said. "But they'll be waiting the day after tomorrow for us. Hopefully we will have found Rouge by then."

"At least, we'd better," Malcolm said.

And then the helicopters were gone, disappearing over the horizon. Snively stood there with Manic and Dr. Malcolm in the clearing, enveloped in the morning heat, and deep silence on the island.

"Kind of creepy here," Snively said, pulling his baseball cap down to cover his eyes.

Snively Carr was twenty-four years old, raised in Empire City. Snively was dark haired- though only five hairs remained on his head. His physique wasn't really to die for. He was shorter than most people, leveling in height with most anthros. His nose was a little on the big side, and his eyes were too large. But Snively had a talent – Manic would have said, a genius – for mechanical things. Snively could build anything, and fix anything. He could see how things worked, just by looking at them. Manic had hired him three years earlier, his first job out of community college. It was supposed to be a temporary job, earning money so he could go back to school and get an advanced degree. However, Manic and Snively had become friends. Moreover, Manic had long since become dependent on Snively. And Snively, for his part, was not very interested in going back to the books.

At the same time, he hadn't counted on anything like this, he thought, looking around him at the clearing. Snively was an urban kid, accustomed to the action of the city, the honk of the horns and the rush of the traffic. The desolate silence made him uneasy.

"Come on," Manic said, putting a hand on his shoulder, "let's get started." They turned to the cargo containers, left by the helicopter. They were sitting a few yards away, in the tall grass.

"Can I help?" Malcolm asked, a few feet from them.

"If you don't mind, no," Snively said. "We'd better unpack these ourselves."

They spent half an hour unbolting the rear panels, lowering them to the ground and entering the containers. After that, they took only a few minutes to release the vehicles. Snively got behind the wheel of the Explorer and flicked on the ignition. There was hardly any sound, just a soft whirr of the vacuum pump starting up. Manic said, "How's your charge?"

"Full," Snively said.

"Batteries okay?"

"Yeah. Seem fine."

Snively was relieved. He had supervised the conversion of these vehicles to electric power, but it was a rushed job, and they hadn't had time to test them thoroughly afterward. And though it was true that electric cars employed less complex technology than the internal-combustion engine – that chugging relic of the nineteenth century – Snively knew that taking untested equipment into the field was always risky.

Especially when equipment also used the latest technology. That fact troubled Snively more than he was willing to admit. Like most born mechanics, he was deeply conservative. He like things to work – work, no matter what – and to him that meant using established, proven technology. Unfortunately, he had been voted down this time.

Snively had argued for backups. He didn't trust the electrical panels or the batteries. He had argued for a little gasoline generator, just in case. And he had always been voted down. Under the circumstances, Snively did the only sensible thing: he built in a few extras, and didn't tell anybody about it.

He was pretty sure Manic knew had done that. But Manic never said anything. And Snively never brought it up. But now that he was here, on this island in the middle of nowhere, he was glad he had. Because the fact was, you never knew.

* * *

Manic watched as Snively backed the last Explorer out into the clearing where the sunlight would strike the panels on the top of the car to charge.

Manic climbed into the first trailer, and backed it out. It was odd to drive a vehicle which was so quiet; the loudest sound was the tires on the container. And once it was on the grass, there was hardly any sound at all. Manic climbed out, and linked up the two trailers, locking them together with the flexible steel accordion connector.

Finally, he turned to the motorcycle. It, too, was electric. He rolled it out of the trailer through the ramp exit, and towards the Explorer. He lifted it onto brackets, hooked the power cord to the same system that ran the vehicle, and recharged the battery. He stepped back, "That does it."

Snively stood in the middle of the clearing, staring and crater walls on the other side of the island. They looked forbidding and harsh. "Why would anyone ever come here?"

Malcolm was leaning against the first trailer he smiled. "To get away from it all, Snively. Don't you ever want to get away from it all?"

"Not if I can help it," Snively said, "Me, I always like a Pizza Hut nearby, you know what I mean?"

"Well, you're a ways from one now."

Manic returned to the back panel of the trailer, and pulled out a pair of heavy air rifles. Beneath the barrel of each hung two aluminum canisters, side by side. He handed one rifle to Snively, showed the other to Malcolm. "You ever seen these?"

"I've read about them," Malcolm said, "From Sweden?"

"Right. Lindstradt air gun. Most expensive rifle in the world. Rugged, simple, accurate, and reliable. Fires a subsonic impact delivery dart, containing whatever compound you want." Manic cracked open the cartridge bank, revealing a row of plastic containers filled with straw-colored liquid. Each cartridge was tipped with a three-inch needle. "We've loaded the enhanced venom of _Conus purpurascens, _the South Sea cone shell. It is the most powerful neurotoxin in the world. Acts within a two-thousandth of a second. It's faster than the nerve-conduction velocity The animal's down before it feels the prick."

"Lethal then?"

Manic nodded. "No screwing around here. Just remember, you don't want to shoot yourself in the foot with this, because you'll be dead before you realized you've pulled the trigger."

Malcolm nodded with an impressed smirk, "No antidote?"

"No. But what's the point?" Snively said. "There'd be no time to administer it if there was."

"That makes things simple," Malcolm said, taking the gun.

"You do know how to shoot a gun?" Snively asked, "Right?"

Malcolm smiled again, "Quite well actually."

"Just thought you out to know," Manic said. "Now let's find Rouge."

* * *

Shadow climbed into the second Explorer with Thorne as Snively took the first one. The radio clicked a moment later, "You sure you don't want me to get the high-hide set up?" Snively asked.

"No," Thorne replied, "We need one of the Explorers for that. We have the low-hide set up, and besides we're all going. It's not like we're staying here."

Thorne handed Malcolm a round disk, with a green line rotating around it, an occasional green dot would flash on the screen as the line passed over as certain point, "It's a radar," Thorne explained, "It's tracking Rouge's satellite phone."

Shadow looked forward and Snively, who was leading the caravan, "Can Carr see it?"

Thorne nodded, "Yes, it's on his dashboard, both cars have one, but you're holding the portable one." He started the car and followed after Carr.

In a few moments, they had left the clearing behind, and were now moving through dense jungle. Thorne's panel lights flashed: the vehicle switched to batteries. There wasn't enough sunlight coming through the trees to power the car anymore. They drove on.

"How you doing, Doc?" Carr said. "You holding charge?"

"Just fine, Snively."

"He sounds nervous," Shadow pointed out.

"Just worried about the equipment."

"The hell," Carr said, "I'm worried about _me." _He paused slowing the car down slightly, "Hey guys, I think I just found a road."

Although the road was overgrown and in poor condition, they made good progress. After about ten minutes they came across a small stream, with muddy banks. Shadow spoke up, "Slow down, the radar says we're close to Rouge."

The first Explorer started slowly across the stream, then stopped. Snively rolled down his window, "Hey what's that?" he pointed.

Shadow and Thorne quickly jumped out of their car, crossing the stream over to a large root sticking out of the ground. They heard the distant cries of what sounded like birds. Shadow glanced back frowning.

"Birds?" Thorne asked.

Shadow shook his head, no.

Snively walked over and leaned down, picking up a strip of cloth out of the mud. It was dark-green, with a strip of leather sewn along one edge, "It looks like a piece of back-pack."

"May I see that?" Shadow asked. He took the strip of cloth and held it up in the light. He fingered the torn edge thoughtfully.

Snively stared at the muddy bank. He bent over again. "Here's another piece of cloth. And another. Seems like the pack was ripped into shreds, Doc."

Another bird cry floated toward them, distant, unworldly. Shadow looked off in the distance, trying to locate its source.

"Does it belong to Rouge?" Snively asked.

Thorne glanced at the radar in Shadow's hand, "No, her signal is a little father up stream. Maybe two or three miles."

Snively shivered, "Then let's get going, I don't like it here."

* * *

Manic was uneasy. He was beginning to understand how Snively felt. He had an uncomfortable sense of isolation, being in this faraway place with untested equipment. The discovery of a shredded backpack made it worse. Someone else had come before them, and apparently didn't last long.

The road continued steeply upward through the dark jungle for the next fifteen minutes. Inside the car, it grew uncomfortably warm. Sitting beside him, Malcolm said, "Air conditioning?"

"I don't want to drain the battery."

"Mind if I open a window then?"

"If you think it's alright," Manic said.

Malcolm shrugged. "Why not?" He pushed the button, and the window rolled down. Warm air blew through the car. He glanced back at Manic, "Nervous, Doc?"

"Sure," Manic scoffed, "Damned right I am."

The road swung right, then left, following a series of switchbacks as the terrain became steeper. Ahead of them, the first Explorer turned left, going higher up the road. "I don't hear anymore of those weird bird sounds," Snively said. He sounded relieved.

Finally the road flattened out following the stream But the jungle was still thick, they couldn't see much. They came to a Y intersection. In the crook of the Y was a faded wooden sign, pointing both directions. To the left, the sign said "To Swamp." To the right was another arrow, and the words, "To Site B."

Snively said, "Guys which way?"

"Go to Site B," Malcolm said, "Rouge's signal is that way."

They had only driven a minute or so, when the smell of sulfur became strong in the air. "It is volcanic," Manic said.

"Yeah, but that active," Snively said, "In fact, I'd say that – holy shit!" Snively's brake lights flashed on, and his car slammed to a stop.

Manic had to swerve, scraping jungle ferns on the side of the car just to miss him. He pulled alongside the other car, and glared at Snively. "Snively, for Pete's sake, will you-"

"It's Rouge's backpack!" Snively interrupted.

They rushed out of there cars, Running to the stream where the brown and muddy backpack lay on the bank. Malcolm kneeled over it, digging through it quickly and pulling out the satellite phone.

Malcolm looked around worried, "Rouge!" he called.

Snively quickly joined in, "Rouge!"

"Rouge Harding!" Manic called.

Malcolm frowned, "How many Rouges' do you think are on this island?" he asked, before calling out again, "Rouge!"

Snively walked ahead a bit, "Roug-" he stopped suddenly, gasping softly.

Manic glanced over, "Snively what's wrong?"

But Snively wasn't listening. He was staring straight forward, his mouth open wide. Manic turned fully to look.

Directly ahead, the trees along the road had been beaten down, creating a gap in the foliage. They could see all the way from the road across the entire island to the west. But Manic hardly registered the panoramic view. Because all he saw was a large animal, the size of a hippopotamus, ambling across the road. Except it wasn't a hippopotamus. This animal was pale brown, its skin covered with large plate-like scales. Around its head, it had a curving bony crest, and rising from this crest were two blunted horns. A third horn protruded above its snout.

"Y-you know what that is?" Snively said, breathing in shallow gasps.

Malcolm stood, "That's a triceratops," he said. "A young one, by the looks of it."

"Y-young?" Snively stuttered. Ahead of them, a much larger animal now crossed the road. It was easily twice the size of the first, and its horns were long, curving and sharp.

"Yes," Malcolm said, "Because that one is probably its mom."

A third triceratops appeared, then a fourth. There was a whole hear of creatures, ambling across the road. They paid no attention to the vehicles as they crossed, passed through the gap, and descended the hill, disappearing from view.

Only then was the trio able to see through the gap itself. Manic had a view across a vast plain, with a broad river coursing through the center. On either side of the river animals grazed. There was a herd of perhaps twenty medium-sized, dark-green dinosaurs to the south, their large heads intermittently poking up above the grass along the river. Nearby, Manic saw eight duck-billed dinosaurs with tube-like crests rising above their heads; they drank and lifted their heads, honking mournfully. Directly ahead, he saw a herd of stegosaurus, making their way up the hill. The triceratops herd moved slowly past the stegosaurs, which paid no attention to them. And to the west, rising above a clump of trees, they saw a dozen long, graceful necks of Apatosaurus, their bodies hidden by the foliage that they lazily ate. It was a tranquil scene – but it was a scene from another world.

"Malcolm," Manic whispered. "What is this place?"

* * *

**And we - ladies and gentlemen - are offically on the island! Let the awe and wonder commence! I hope you enjoyed this chapter, let's hope we find Rouge in the next one ;)**

**See you soon!**


	8. The Lost World

**Chapter 8**

**The Lost World**

Manic drug through the back of his car, hands shaking as he took out his camera's. There were dinosaurs here, actual goddamn dinosaurs!

"Oh-my god!" Snively gasped, "It's a dinosaur! An actual dinosaur! This is what InGen was working on the whole time?"

Malcolm nodded, "Yes, yes."

Manic walked quickly forward, turning on his camera, "This is magnificent!"

Malcolm sighed, "Oh yeah, Oh, ah, that's how it always starts." He said, crossing his arms. He watched solemnly as the stegosaurs climbed up onto the road and into the stream on the other side. "But then there is running and screaming."

"You knew about this?" Manic breathed as he took pictures.

"I told you it was too abnormal to explain."

"But this – this, oh my god," Manic said.

"Mm-hmm," Malcolm sighed.

"Wow…" Snively whispered.

Manic set down his camera bag, and moved across the road to a knocked down tree. Climbing up he zoomed in his lens to get a better shot of the magnificent creature. As he was taking a few shots, suddenly from out of the blue:

"Hey Manic!"

Manic cried out in surprise, jumping. His foot slid out from under him and he fell onto the mossy tree. Looking up as laughter filled his ears, he smiled. "Heh, Damn. I guess you got the jump on us didn't you Rouge?"

Rouge Harding was still laughing as she climbed up the other side of the fallen tree, "Yeah." She pulled herself up and stopped laughing as her eyes fell onto Malcolm. Malcolm returned her gaze with an angered glare.

"Shadow I thought never in a million years Hammond could get you to come here." She said. She giggled some more, hoping down from the tree. "Hi Snively!"

Snively waved timidly, "Hi Rouge."

She jogged up, "You have anything to eat? I'm starving."

Snively, sensing the tension in the air, "Yeah, we have some energy bars in the car, give me a sec," he quickly hurried off

Rouge walked up to Malcolm, "Shadow did you see those animals over there. A family group, a pair-bond and a sub adult. Every egg site I've seen has had the shells crushed or trampled. A clear sign that the infants stay in the nest for an extensive time." She laughed, "God this place is so amazing, I'm so glad you came here!"

Malcolm remained silent throughout her whole speech, before lifting up her backpack, "You weren't attacked?" he asked with a frown.

Manic eyed the backpack, on closer inspection; one could see the backpack had multiple rips, holes, and what looked like claw marks all over it.

Rouge looked down at the backpack, her smile vanished. "Oh, no. That's my lucky pack. It's always looked like that."

"How come I've never noticed?"

"Because you never look,"

He stared at her hard a moment before lowering the backpack, "Ok, Rouge-"

Rouge turned to Manic, "Hey is that a Nikon? Can I borrow it really quick?"

Manic paused, and then slowly nodded; "Yeah sure," he hopped off the tree and handed it to Rouge. She smiled, and quickly started walking after the heard.

"I'll be right back I promise,"

Manic heard Malcolm growl, and then suddenly the ebony hedgehog was walking past him, following Rouge. Snively walked up a moment later, "Hey, where are they going?"

Manic swallowed, "Following the heard, but let's stay a few feet behind them, shall we?"

* * *

Shadow followed Rouge in a fuming anger, how could she do that? Say a quick hello then take off as if they were just meeting on the street and not on some hazardous island.

"Hey, Rouge. When Hammond called you," he shouted after her, "Why didn't you say something to me?"

"Because I knew you would deny what Hammond was saying," she called back, not slowing her pace, "And if you didn't do that, you would have surely stopped me from coming."

"I would have-"

"I figured how the animals survived without lysine," Rouge interrupted.

"I really don't care about that, What I'm saying-"

"If you look at the diets of the herbivore species that are thriving, they are eating mostly agama beans, soy, anything lysine rich, and the carnivores eat the herbivores which keep them alive as well." She said before stopping, "Wait, stop walking." She slowly advanced towards the herd of stegosaurs.

"Rouge," Shadow began as he followed, "Rouge, Rouge, No!"

She glanced back at him, hopping over a log, "Stay there," she said, with a wave of her hand for emphasis.

Shadow shook his head, "Get back here! Are you crazy?" he called as he and the others came to a stop, leaning slightly over a fallen tree.

Rouge paid him no mind and crept along the river bed, closing in on the massive spiked dinosaurs. The stegosaurs let out a low moan and came to stop by the river's edge, eating from the low hanging branches or trees and bushes.

Rouge stepped out of the river edge and into some foliage, getting on her hands and knees she crawled a few more feet towards the herd.

Suddenly a baby stegosaur appeared, it's little head rising up above a stump. Shadow heard Rouge giggle a bit at the sight of the creature, and frowned as she began to take pictures. After she took a few shots she lowered her camera and smiled at the creature.

Shadow shook his head, calling out to her softly, "Rouge….Rouge!"

Thorn had stood up from his crouched position and flipped open his video camera, recording the magnificent animals. Shadow glanced at him before looking back to Rouge, he tapped his fingers nervously against the tree, "She's too close, way too close."

"What the hell is she doing?" Thorn asked.

Shadow shook his head yet again, "Too close too close."

The baby dinosaur snorted softly as Rouge reached out slowly. It sniffed as her hand got closer, taking in the foreign scent, Rouge moved in inch by inch, before gently placing her fingers on the snout.

Shadow growled, "Does she have to touch it, why is she touching it?"

"She's going right up to it," Carr whispered, "Wow…"

"She cannot touch!" Shadow hissed. "Once she sees something, she just- she just has to touch it doesn't she?"

Thorn shrugged, "You tell me, she's your girlfriend."

The dinosaur let out a playful roar, Rouge's hand pulled away as it's head reared back. She smiled and let out a giggle.

Carr shook his head, "Is this even possible?"

Shadow looked down at him, "What?" he pointed at the herd, "This? What did you think you were documenting? What did you think you were going to see?"

Thorn shrugged, "Animals, maybe uh, some large lizards."

Shadow glanced at them both before looking back towards Rouge, "Fruitcakes," he mumbled with a sigh.

Rouge lifted the camera once more to continue her photo shoot, but only got a few shots in before the camera let out a loud whir as it began to rewind the film. The baby stegosaur backed away, letting out a whine.

Shadow cursed, "They get very angry when they run out of film, Snively grab your gun!"

The adult stegosaurs turned their heads as the baby let out another cry, Rouge stood backing away from the infant.

"Rouge!" Shadow called, "Rouge!"

She turned to him, waving him away as the one of the adults let out a howl, she ran towards the rest of the pack as an adult came in from behind, cutting her off from the group.

"Rouge!" Shadow was moving in a heartbeat, throwing himself over the fallen log, he raced down the stream, the others following after. Thorn grabbed his arm, yanking him backward.

"You're going to kill yourself!" he cursed, "Snively shoot it!"

Carr seemed hesitant, as he lifted his gun, "They're just protecting their baby."

Shadow flashed him a look, "What do you think I'm trying to do?"

The all winced as Rouge stumbled around a stegosaur, ducking as the spiked tail swung at her, the lethal weapon missing her by mere inches.

Rouge quickly scrambled up, running back as another adult charged at her, running a few feet from the monstrous herbivore she dived into a hollow log. The female bat crawled through it at a rapid pace, yelping in surprise as a spike impaled the log. It nearly hit her right thigh before pulling out.

The trio watched as the stegosaur, seeing no sign of the intruder, back away, herding the baby along with them.

"They're leaving…I think they're leaving," Carr said.

Rouge peeked her head out of the log curiously, as Shadow ran up to her. She climbed out grabbing on to Shadow to hoist her up. She gave him a cocky smile as she regained balance. "See?" she said.

"Totally fine."

* * *

"Wow," Snively sighed as the group walked back towards the jeeps.

Manic was just as excited as he was, not only was this an exceptional island, he had footage to prove it! "These images are incredible, legendary even." He waved his camera proudly, "People will be studying and exploring their whole lives and never get data this good. You can give me the polls right now," he laughed, "Competition's over, I'd like to everyone who lost." He grinned.

Behind them, Malcolm and Rouge were not as enthusiastic, well Malcolm anyway.

"We're here to observe and document Shadow, that's all, no harm done," Rouge explained.

Malcolm flashed a look. "Which by the way is a scientific improbability, whatever you study you also change."

"Oh, honey would you relax?" Rouge sighed. "I'm sick of hearing from the people who sit in the dirt, this is a chance of a life time."

"You know the people who dig in the dirt _darling,_ have it a lot better than we do right now."

Rouge sighed, "Give me a break Shadow; I've worked around with predators and other animals for ages. Lions, jackals, hyenas…..You." she laughed, "I think I know what I'm doing."

The group walked towards the car, "What I'm trying to say Rouge is that you didn't see-"

Snively leaned over the dashboard glancing at the build in tracker, "Hey Manic, did you tack the radar of off Rouge's phone?"

The green hedgehog tilted his head, "Yeah why?"

"The radar is picking up another one of our trackers."

Malcolm's eyes narrowed," Another tracker?"

Manic leaned into the car, "Yeah, all our trackers have the same frequency, but I don't see why we would get another signal, unless..." He trailed off.

"What?" Snively asked, "What is it?"

Manic pressed a few buttons on the dash, "The signal is pretty weak but let's see if I can pick up the I.D. code so we can see who's signal we have,"

From the dashboard, there was a high pitch beeping. On the GPS map, a blue grid was overlaid, with a flashing triangular point marked LEVN.

"Oh my God, are you serious?" Manic mumbled.

"Who's LEVN?" Rouge asked.

"The man came to me a few months back wanting some equipment for an expedition, pain in the ass if you ask me," Manic looked up, "That's Vector Levine's signal."

* * *

Shadow could have shot himself then, "Levine is here? How did he-" He paused.

"Know him?" Snively asked.

"Levine came to me awhile back asking about a 'Lost World' saying in was real and connected to InGen somehow. He knew I worked with InGen awhile back and he wanted to know if I knew anything," Shadow explained.

"To which he said, 'No'" Rouge added.

"And I didn't," Shadow retorted, "I only knew about Jurassic Park, Site A if you will. I was only aware of Site B until recently when Big Hammond summoned me," he tapped his chin, "But Levine did call me a few weeks ago, saying he had a breakthrough in his research. He must have found the island somehow and came here."

"We'd better find him then," Manic said, "Snively do you still have the signal?"

"Yeah, it looks like it's coming from a valley not too far from here." Snively said climbing into the first car with Rouge, "Let's go, I want to get the hell out of here."

With a flick of a switch, Manic turned on his car, "I'm going back to get the trailers, Wait here." Wipping the car around he drove off with Malcolm.

* * *

He came back twenty minutes later, trailers in tow and Explorer towed to in the back, rolling down the window he waved to Snively, signaling him to move, before shifting gears and following after the Explorer.

The jungle closed in around them again, close and suffocating . The trees blocked out nearly all sunlight. As he drove the beeping on the monitor became irregular. He glanced down at the monitor and saw the triangle flashing, disappearing then reappearing, and then it was gone again.

"Are we losing him Snively?" Manic asked.

"Doesn't matter if we do," Snively said, "We've got a location on him now, and we can go right there. In fact, it should be just past the road here, beyond that guardhouse or whatever it is."

Manic looked past the Explorer, and saw a concrete building and a tilting steel road barrier. It did look like a guardhouse. The whole structure was in disrepair however, overgrown with vines. They drove on, coming onto a paved road. It was clear the foliage on either side had been cut back, fifty feet or so on either side. Pretty soon they came to a second guardhouse, and a second checkpoint.

They continued on another two hundred yards, the road curving slowly around the ridge. The surrounding foliage becoming sparser, through the gaps in the ferns Manic could see wooden outbuildings, all painted a foliage green. They seemed to be utility structures, perhaps sheds for tools of equipment. He had a sense of entering a substantial complex.

And then, suddenly they rounded a curve, and saw the entire complex. And spread out below them. It was about a half-mile away.

"Great Empire City," Snively mumbled, "What is that?"

Manic stared astonished. In the center of the clearing he saw the flat roof of an enormous building. It covered several acres, stretching away into the distance. It was easily the size of two football fields. Beyond the vast roof was a large and blocky building with a metal roof, which had the functional look of a power plant. But if so, it was big as the power plant for a small town.

At the far end of the main building, Manic noticed loading docks, and turnarounds for trucks. Over the to the right, hidden slightly by the foliage, there were a series of small structures that looked like cottages. But from a distance it was hard to tell for sure.

Taken together the whole complex had a functional quality that reminded Manic of an industrial site, or a fabrication plant. He frowned trying to put it together.

"Malcolm do you know what this is?"

"Yes," Malcolm said, nodding slowly. "It's what I suspected for some time now."

"Oh?"

"It's a manufacturing plant," Malcolm said. "It's a kind of factory."

"But it's huge," Manic said.

"Yes," Malcolm said, "It had to be."

Over the radio, Eddie said, "I'm still getting a reading from Levine. And guess what? It's coming from that building."

They drove past the covered front entrance to the main building, beneath the sagging doorway. The building was of modern design, concrete and glass, but the jungle had grown around it. Vines hung from the roof. Panes of glass were broken; ferns sprouted between cracks in the concrete.

Manic said, "Snively you got a reading?"

Snively nodded, "Yeah, inside. What do you want to do?"

"Let's set up base camp in the field over there," Manic said, pointing to about two miles to the right, where once, it seemed, there had been an extensive lawn. It was still clear from the darkness of the jungle; there would be plenty of sunlight for the solar panels, "Then we'll look around."

Snively parked his vehicle, turning it around to face the way they had come. Manic maneuvered the trailers alongside the car, and cut the engine. He climbed out into the still hot morning air. Malcolm got out and stood with him. Here closer to the center of the island, it was completely and eerily silent save for the buzz of flies.

Snively came over, slapping his cheek, "Great place huh? No shortage of blasted mosquitoes. You want to go get Levine now?" Snively unclipped the reciever from his belt, "Still in the building." He said pointing to the large complex, "What do you say?"

"Let's go get him," Manic said.

The three men and one female climbed into the Explorer and, leaving the trailers behind, drove off to the giant ruined building.

* * *

Inside the trailer the sound of the car faded away and there was silence. The dashboard glowed, the GPS map remained visible on the monitor; the flashing X marked their position. The electric readouts all glowed bright green.

In the living section where the kitchen and beds were located, the recirculation water in the sink gurgles softly. Then there was a thumping sound, coming from the upper storage compartment, located near the ceiling. The thumping was repeated, and then there was silence once more.

After a moment, a credit card appeared through the crack of the compartment door. The card slid upward, lifting the panel latch, unhooking it. The door swung open and a bundle of white padding fell to the ground below with a dull thud. The padding unrolled, and Miles Benton groaned his small body stretching out.

"If I don't pee right now, I'm going to _scream_!" he said, jumping up and rushing on wobbly legs to the small bathroom.

A flush later Miles came out of the bathroom. He sighed with relief. It had been Ex's idea for them to go, but she left it for him to figure out the details. And he had figured everything out perfectly, well almost. Miles a correctly predicted it would be freezing cold in the cargo plane, and they would have to bundle up; so he'd stuffed their compartments with every blanket and sheet in the trailer. He'd predicted the flight would be at least twelve hours, and he put aside some cookies and water. In fact he had anticipated almost everything, except at the last minute Snively Carr had gone into the trailers and lock the compartments from the outside. Locking them in so for the next twelve hours there would be no bathroom breaks. For twelve bloody hours!

Behind him, he heard muffled shouts, crouching down by the compartment beneath the bed. He quickly unlatched it; another bundle unrolled and Ex appeared beside him.

"Hey Ex," he said proudly, "We made it."

"No time, gotta go!" She yanked the bathroom door shut with a bang.

Miles said. "We did it! We're here!"

"Just a minute, Miles. Okay?"

For the first time, he glanced out the window of the trailer. All around them was a grassy clearing, and beyond that, the ferns and high trees of the jungle. and high above the tree tops he saw the curving black rock of the volcanic rim.

So this was Isla Sorna.

All right!

Ex came out of the bathroom, "Oh. I thought I was going to die!" she gave him a high five. "By the way, how'd you get your door open."

"Credit card." he said.

Her eyes narrowed and she frowned. "You have a credit card."

"My parents gave it to me in case of emergencies," he said. "And I figured _this _was an emergency." He tried to make a joke out of it, to treat the whole thing lightly. He knew how sensitive Ex was when it came to the matters of money and he tried not to talk about it.

Miles couldn't fit in well with people, he wasn't good at sports and he wasn't dumb. Some of his classes were so boring it was hard to stay awake. He wasn't into things the other kids liked, the cool TV shows of the 49ers. That stuff wasn't important to him.

But Miles learned quickly that it was unpopular to say so. It was better to keep your mouth shut. Because nobody understood him, except Ex. She seemed to know what he was talking about, most of the time.

And Dr. Thorne. At least the school had an advanced-placement track, which was moderately interesting to Miles. He wasn't into photography and explorer equipment, but Thorne had made it enjoyable somehow. Miles found himself eager for school for once.

"So this is Isla Sorna, huh?" Ex said, looking out the window at the jungle.

"Yeah," Miles said, "I guess so."

"Did you hear what Malcolm and Thorne were talking about when they came back for the trailer."

"Not really, too much padding."

"Me neither," Ex said, "But Thorne seemed pretty worked up about something."

"He did?"

"It sounded like they were talking about dinosaurs." Ex said. "Did you hear anything like that?"

Miles laughed shaking his head, "No, Ex." he said.

"Because I thought I heard..."

"Come on, Ex."

"I thought Thorne said 'triceratops.' "

"Ex," Mile said, "Dinosaurs have been extinct for sixty-five million years."

"I know that...:

He tilted his head towards the window, "You see any dinosaurs out there?"

Ex didn't answer. She went to the opposite window. She saw the adults enter the building. But there were four, not three. Her eyes lit up, could it be Rouge Harding?

"They are going to be pretty annoyed when they find us," Miles said. "How do you think we should tell them?"

"It could be a surprise."

"They'll be mad," he said.

"What can they do about it," she replied.

"Maybe they'll send us back."

"How? They can't."

"Yeah, you're right." Miles shrugged casually.

Ex had migrated over to the fridge, she took out a wrapped sandwich out. Moving over to her, he looked briefly inside and grabbed the first one he saw.

"You don't want that," she said.

"Yes, I do."

"It's tuna salad."

He hated tuna salad. He put it back quickly, and looked around some more.

"That's egg salad on the left," she said, "In the bun."

"Thanks."

"No problem," sitting down on the cough Ex wolfed down her sandwich hungrily.

"At least I got us here," he said, unwrapping his own carefully. He folded the plastic neatly and set it aside."

"Yeah. You did."

Miles ate his sandwich. He thought he had never tasted anything so good in his entire life. It was even better than his mother's sandwiches.

The thought of his mother gave him a pang, she thought he was on some camping trip in the mountains. Yet here he is, all the way in Costa Rica, and she didn't even know better.

"I'm getting another one," Ex said, going back to the fridge. She came out with two, one in each hand.

"You think there is enough?"

"Who cares? I'm starving," she said, tearing the wrapper off the first one.

"Maybe we should eat-"

"If you're going to worry so much, perhaps you should have stayed home."

Deciding she was right. He looked down surprised that he had already finished his first sandwich. So he took the other one Ex offered him.

"I wonder what the building was the adults went into," Ex stated, glancing out the window. "It looks abandoned."

"Yeah probably for years."

"Why would anyone build something way out here?" she wondered.

"Maybe they were doing something secret."

"Or dangerous."

"Yeah or that." the idea of danger was both thrilling and unerving. Miles felt far from home.

"I wonder what they were doing?" she said. Still eating Ex got up and went to look out the window. "Sure is a big place." her eyes squinted, "Huh," she said, "That's weird."

"What is?"

"Look out there, everything looks abandoned. The grass in this field is pretty high too."

"Yes..."

"But right down here," she said. pointing near the trailer." there is a clear path."

Chewing Miles got up and looked. She was right, just a few yards from the trailer, the grass had been trampled down. It was a narrow but distinct trail, coming from the left, going off to the right across the open clearing.

"So," Ex said. "If nobody has been here for years, what made the trail?"

"Animals?" He suggested, it was all he could think of, "It must be a game trail."

What type of animals?"

"Deer or something," Mile said with a shrug.

"I haven't seen any deer."

He said, "Maybe goats, you know wild goats, like the ones in Hawaii."

"The trail is too wide for deer or goats," Ex said.

"Maybe it's a whole herd of wild goats."

"Too wide," Ex said. She shrugged and turned away from the window, she went back to the fridge, "I wonder if there is anything for dessert?"

Speaking of dessert," Hey, Ex?" Mile said.

"Yeah?"

"Do you think Dr. Thorne packed an extra toothbrush?"

"Why?"

"I think I forgot mine."

Ex sighed, "Oh Miles, live a little." she came back to the couch and shook her head.

"No dessert?"

"Nothing. Not even frozen yogurt. _Adults. _They never plan right."

"Yeah. That's true."

Ex yawned and Miles felt himself yawning too. Sleep was overtaking him fast, he went back to the living compartment, and crawled onto the mattress beside the window.

He saw Ex stretch out on the bed opposite of him, and then his eyes closed. He immediately went to sleep. He dreamed he was back on the airplane, feeling the gentle rocking motion, hearing the deep rumble of the engines. He slept lightly, and at one moment woke up, convinced the trailer _was_ actually rocking, and that there _was_ a really low rumbling sound, coming from right outside the window. But almost immediately he was asleep again. Now he dreamed of dinosaurs. Ex's dinosaurs, and in his light sleep there were two animals, so huge that he could not see their heads through the window, only their thick scaly legs as they shook the ground and walked past the trailer. But in his dream the second animal paused, and bent over, and the big head peered in curiously through the window. Miles realized he was seeing the head of a giant Tyrannosaurus rex, the great jaws working, the white teeth glinting in the sunlight, and in his dream he watched it all calmly and slept on.

* * *

**Ugh not happy with the beginning of this chapter, not happy at all. I'll fix it later though.**

**Hey everyone, long time no see. I'm pretty sure you all want to shoot me with a gun or something worse, but things have been busy for me, that and I was a little lacking on insperation, but all is good now. That and our good keyboard is unavailable so I'm stuck using the flat, painful for your hands keyboard.**

**Anyway hope you enjoy, I'll see you soon, and try to get around and review all of your stories which I've noticed you've been popping out and updating like crazy.**

**P.S. I'm keeping you in tabs by updating my profile when I can. So if you need to get up to date just check the Update section of my profile page. **


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